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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25833874">We Are Nowhere and It's Now</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/This_Will_Be_Our_Year/pseuds/This_Will_Be_Our_Year'>This_Will_Be_Our_Year</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Schitt's Creek</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Dystopia, Alternating Perspectives, Angst, Drinking, Eventual Happy Ending, Implied Smut, M/M, Multi, Non-Graphic Violence, Slow Burn, the violence is mainly gun violence by the police, there is a minor character death but it's only in chapter 1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-08-12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-01-03</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 00:14:59</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>52,622</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25833874</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/This_Will_Be_Our_Year/pseuds/This_Will_Be_Our_Year</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>The year is 2170. For two generations North America has been governed by a totalitarian regime that exercises its power through fear and violence. Most people live as Citizens who adhere to the law in order to survive, but an underground network of saboteurs also lives in hiding "off the grid."</p><p>Patrick Brewer, model citizen, must decide which world he belongs to.</p><p> </p><p>Or: David and Patrick fall in love and save the world.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Patrick Brewer/David Rose</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>85</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>103</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Yellow Bird</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>I decided it might be fun to try my hand at writing, and somehow it turned into a multi-chapter behemoth. </p><p>I know that Schitt's Creek is a warm blanket we love to escape to, so the setting for this might not be everyone's cup of tea. Although there are some upsetting circumstances and events, it is still a story about finding joy and fulfillment during difficult times through the strength of love and family. I have done my best to stay true to these characters despite the stark change in time and place.</p><p>Again, this is my first work, so I hope folks will be kind.</p><p> </p><p>The title for this comes from "We Are Nowhere and It's Now" by Bright Eyes. All chapter titles are lyrics from the same song.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="p1">
  <b>Patrick</b>
</p><p class="p1">Patrick stood in front of his bathroom mirror, smoothing one hand down the front of his suit jacket. Pale grey and made of wool, it had a mandarin collar and large copper buttons sealing it closed from his waist to his neck. The pants matched the fabric, as did the cap he wore to contain the mess of curls on his head. He needed a haircut.</p><p class="p1">Patrick had worn some version of that suit every day since he was five years old. The only times he had changed into something different were during sports and when he slept. He never thought about it much, though. His reflection in the mirror would soon be replaced by the reflection he saw in every person he encountered when he stepped outside his door that morning for work. Grey suits everywhere: the man he bought his morning tea from at the café, the children in the schoolyard he passed on his walk, the woman who scanned his ID as he entered his office building. The uniform of the Citizen.</p><p class="p1">As he settled in at his work station that morning, Patrick took a long sip of his tea and turned on his computer.</p><p class="p1">“Morning, Patrick!” He looked up to see Rachel smiling, far more cheerful and awake than he was feeling. Rachel’s petite figure donned the same uniform, with her glossy red hair just visible, pinned up in a braid and tucked into her cap.</p><p class="p1">“Hey, Rach. How’s it going?”</p><p class="p1">“Another Monday! Kind of nice to get out of the house though. My parents are driving me a little crazy.”</p><p class="p1">“I told you, you should get your own place,” Patrick replied. “It’s pretty nice to have some space.”</p><p class="p1">“I know, I know.” It was a conversation they had been having for nearly ten years. “I don’t know, we’re only two years away. I can wait it out.”</p><p class="p1">Two years - not long now. Rachel was Patrick’s match - paired since they were children. After a decade working in their government jobs they would get a house, move in together, and start a family. Two years now.</p><p class="p1">“Fair enough,” he smiled. He glanced at his computer, now booted up and ready.</p><p class="p1">“Okay, I can tell you want to get to work,” Rachel said knowingly. She did know him pretty well. “Lunch?”</p><p class="p1">“You got it,” he answered. And with that she spun around and walked off to find her own cubicle.</p><p class="p1">Patrick liked his job - he found it rather straightforward, and he was good at it. Most jobs were government jobs, and most enterprises were either run by or strictly monitored by the government. Patrick had worked for the Department of Property for years. He was responsible for helping to develop and monitor the use of buildings shared by the general public. In other words, stores, restaurants and cafés, schools, doctors’ offices - Patrick worked as a liaison to make sure the use of the spaces was compliant with the law. It was a lot of meticulous data keeping and knowledge of the relevant codes, but Patrick was good at organizing details.</p><p class="p1">His job also made him feel useful; he helped people adhere to standards and ensure easy inspection, and it was a service to his country that he could perform every day.</p><p class="p1">When 5pm rolled around, Patrick was content. A productive day’s work. A comfortable future ahead of him.</p><p class="p1">***</p><p class="p1">Patrick stopped at a market on the way home to pick up some food — although there were plenty of ready-made meals, he went for some fresh vegetables, meat, and pasta. He liked to cook, just like his father. He had fond memories of his childhood — his parents always seemed to be a good match and enjoyed each other’s company. They kept their family on track and complied with all that was required of them. And they found many ways to make Patrick feel cared for and loved, like his father’s cooking and his mother’s singing.</p><p class="p1">The sun had begun its descent below the horizon, leaving layers of deep purple and inky blue across the sky. Patrick stepped into the foyer of his apartment building, and was a bit startled by the group of police standing by the stairwell. He readjusted the bag of groceries he was carrying and moved in closer.</p><p class="p1">The police wore suits similar to his own, but the fabric was all black, and they were visibly armed. None of them paid him any attention. Suddenly, a woman came down the stairs, flanked on either side by an officer. Her head hung low. The rest of the police swiftly turned and moved to leave, opening the door as the woman was escorted outside.</p><p class="p1">Patrick didn’t recognize her from the building, but he really didn’t know most of his neighbors. He first felt a sense of relief that a person who had clearly broken the law was being removed. But as he began walking up the three flights of stairs, the image of her looking so defeated, body contorted to contain her shame or fear or both, wormed its way into his head, awakening that question he tried to keep deep and low:</p><p class="p1">
  <em>Is this the way things are supposed to be?</em>
</p><p class="p1">He had seen a thousand arrests, even some executions, and he knew they happened to keep the world orderly and safe. But every now and then, he had doubts.</p><p class="p1">Doubts about the world were dangerous, though, and he employed his well-practiced method of breathing deeply and charging on, up the stairs to his apartment.</p><p class="p1">It was small, a studio with just enough room for his bed and a couch. The kitchen was open to the rest of the room, with a tiny counter serving as a small barrier between them. It was modest, but Patrick took great pride in his little space. He set the groceries on the counter and noticed the blinking light on his phone — he didn’t get many messages.</p><p class="p1">He pressed play and recognized his father’s voice. “Hey, Patrick. Uh, you’re gonna have to give me a call back.” His voice was tired, straining to get through the message. “Your mother died.”</p><p class="p1">***</p><p class="p1">It had been a week since he heard his father’s message. There had been tears, shock, anger, and disbelief. It was just so sudden — a stroke he was told. Patrick had visited his father and his father’s brother John at a café every day that week; his father wanted to get out of the house, too thick and cloudy with the fog of memories, and Patrick wasn’t really ready to be there without his mother in it.</p><p class="p1">But the time had come for the three of them to begin moving on. His job had given him two weeks off, but everything was expected to be handled in that time. They were all taught that death should not be dwelled upon, that it was awful but natural. There would be no service or ceremony of any kind - no communal opportunity for closure. Just the next steps of cleaning out his mother’s belongings and making decisions about the future. Like so many thoughts and questions and feelings, Patrick tucked his grief deep into the back of his mind and readied himself to help his father.</p><p class="p1">***</p><p class="p1">He arrived at his childhood home and stood on the sidewalk, taking it in. A two story house, a simple four-walled box with gray siding and white trim. There was a driveway and a lawn but no garage. It was an exact replica of the building to its right and its left, and the string of other homes that unfurled down the street in each direction.</p><p class="p1">Patrick looked over at his father to his right, and his uncle John to his left, in their own grey suits and caps, standing in a row facing the houses. The thought crept in - <em>We look the same as these buildings</em>. It was a simple analogy really, and any outside observer would say, <em>yeah, that’s the idea</em>. But the thought bothered him - it bothered him he had it at all. He shook his head and led the way as they entered the house.</p><p class="p1">Everything was much as he had remembered it. The same blue leather sofa and matching recliner curled around a glass coffee table. A paper thin monitor hung on the wall, turned off. The walls were white, the floor was dark hardwood. Patrick remembered being embarrassed by the hardwood floors growing up. Most homes were carpeted, but his mother had always preferred this particular aesthetic. He didn’t like that it made their home even slightly different.</p><p class="p1">The living room opened up into a dining area with a sliding glass door - just to the right was a small kitchen with frosted glass cabinets and steel appliances. He walked in and noticed a pile of dirty dishes in the sink; a very unusual sight. He ached for his father, who normally kept their home clean, neat, and orderly.</p><p class="p1">Patrick’s uncle and father stood silently at the foot of the stairwell off the living room, waiting for Patrick to follow them upstairs. The small group set to work to collect and sort through his mother’s belongings. In his parents’ bedroom, Patrick sat on one of their beds. He didn’t know what to do but decided his presence provided support for his father, who began going through her clothes and books. He sorted items into piles for donation. This was standard practice after any death - personal items should be sent to others that might benefit from them. Nothing wasted. Uncle John began boxing and bagging everything. Patrick watched his father slowly examine each item. He was quiet, pensive.</p><p class="p1">Patrick needed a break. He crossed the hallway into his old bedroom, now entirely bare except for a white dresser and a white bed frame with dark navy bedding. He sat on the bed, looking across the small room at his closet. It occurred to him that he probably still had some old belongings packed away in there; clothes, books, maybe some electronics.</p><p class="p1">When he opened it, he was instantly assaulted by a falling broom, and then a small avalanche of other odds and ends that had been stuffed in. Luggage, crates, and buckets he remembered using for cleaning had been stacked precariously and toppled onto his bedroom floor. Peering further into the space he realized it was being used for all kinds of storage. Then he saw in the far right corner a cardboard box on top of another pile and it was filled with food - cans of soups and vegetables, boxes of cereal and crackers. He felt his stomach twist into a tight knot. Hoarding food was illegal - why was this here?</p><p class="p1">He stepped back. He could still hear his father across the hall, so he walked over.</p><p class="p1">Trying to sound casual, Patrick asked, “So, what’s going on with my closet?”</p><p class="p1">“Oh,” his father replied. “Yeah, well, you know we have limited storage. We had an inspection a few months ago and your mother really wanted the place to look neat, so she said she might keep some things in there. Why, is it that bad?”</p><p class="p1">So he hadn’t seen it. He might not even know what was in there. Patrick didn’t want to bring up the food, thinking it might somehow incriminate his mother. Did that matter anymore?</p><p class="p1">“Just a lot of cleaning supplies, mostly.”</p><p class="p1">***</p><p class="p1">That night Patrick couldn’t sleep. Why was his mother hoarding food? His world was one of obedience and conformity. This evidence of deviance was troubling, reshaping his entire perception of his mother, and maybe his father? Where did <em>he</em> fit in here? And were there other ways his parents had <em>deviated</em>, broken the law? Did other people in town know about it? Was Patrick, himself, assumed to be part of it?</p><p class="p1">Patrick was spiraling. His breath shortened and heart raced. He rolled out of bed in his white t-shirt and grey boxers, stumbled across his small apartment and into the kitchen. Holding his glass under the faucet, he filled it up and drained the glass in one gulp. He returned to bed, but didn’t sleep.</p><p class="p1">***</p><p class="p1">The next day Patrick returned to his family home to take another look. This time he opened the closet, grabbed the broom before it fell, and began to take each item out, placing them throughout the bedroom. When he made it to the back of the closet, he decided to lock the bedroom door.</p><p class="p1">It wasn’t just one box of food. It was a tall stack of boxes. Five. He wondered how these were missed during the inspection. Best to tackle that one later.</p><p class="p1">He left the food, but continued to go through the closet. Finally, he found a cardboard box with his own belongings. There was less than he thought there would be. A few textbooks from school, an old electronic tablet, and his first school uniform from age 5, neatly folded and tucked into a clear plastic bag. His mother must have saved that for him. It was oddly sentimental, and his stomach began to twist again.</p><p class="p1">Patrick sat on the bed, looking around his room. The items scattered across the floor were all perfectly normal - the broom, the box of cleaning supplies, the buckets. Two suitcases, a few bags of old clothes, a first aid kit, some old quilts. But the food was still troubling. And the uniform in his box did not sit well with him. He did feel…touched? But mostly concerned.</p><p class="p1">Nonetheless, he concluded that his closet was a perfectly fine place to keep everything until his father decided if he would stay in the house or move. So he got to cleaning up and neatly organizing the closet once more. He kept his box to bring home with him and set it on the bed. He silently decided that he should find a way to get rid of the food before his father saw it — a plan for another day.</p><p class="p1">Patrick stacked some boxes, lifting them all at once to finish his job a bit more quickly. It was a mistake - he lost his grip and the top few boxes slid off the stack, right onto the floor. The first aid kit shattered open loudly, and Patrick’s eyes darted to the ground. His heart stopped.</p><p class="p1">The contents had not been gauze and band-aids. Patrick collapsed to the floor. His fingers grasped at photographs, a glass bottle filled with clear liquid, a silver tube. His heart pounded deep and fast in his chest. He kept touching everything, then pulling back as though they burned his fingertips. Finally, he took a deep breath, resigned to examining more closely, and sat cross-legged on the floor. He slowly lifted the first photograph. It was his mother, but not how he remembered her.</p><p class="p1">Instead of the grey suit, grey hair braided neatly and pinned up the back of her head, she was in vibrant color. She looked young. Her hair fell down around her face, long waves and loose curls of auburn that poured over her shoulders. Her lips were painted bright red, stretched into a broad smile. Her green eyes squinted into the smile, looking at something out of the frame. She sat in a chair at a table in a dimly lit, crowded room. She wore black, but it glittered - a sleeveless, fitted dress revealing her slender arms, one draped across her chair, the other on the table. Her legs crossed.</p><p class="p1">Patrick’s heart beat faster, harder. His hands began to shake. <em>What the hell is this</em>. His thoughts and feelings warred in his brain. There was no denying it - the photograph was <em>beautiful</em>. He had never seen a person look like that before -the carefree confidence, the smile, the color, the skin. But it looked so different from everything he knew, and different was wrong. This he knew for certain. He could now count two secrets his mother had harbored.</p><p class="p1">“Patrick! What are you still doing in there?” The door rattled loudly as his father tried to open it. “Why is this locked?”</p><p class="p1">“Sorry, there’s a lot on the floor in here, I didn’t want anyone to trip.” The lie came easy. That was new. “I’ll be right out.”</p><p class="p1">Hands still shaky, Patrick finished packing up the closet, then collected the contents of the first aid kit and closed it tightly. Hesitating for a moment, he lifted a book from the box on his bed, tossed the kit beneath it, and quickly covered it. He took a deep breath, stood up straight, smoothing the front of his suit with his hand. He readjusted his cap and ran a hand across his forehead, down his cheek, as if to reset his face. Finally, he lifted the box and tucked it under one arm, and stepped out of the room to say his goodbyes and head home.</p><p class="p1">***</p><p class="p1">At home, Patrick wept. He had never felt so much at once, and none of the feelings were familiar. He was scared, heartbroken, and grieving at the loss of his mother. He was worried about his father. He felt betrayed and confused by these new revelations, whatever they meant. But he was also…<em>curious</em>? A little bit <em>thrilled</em> by the newness of what he had found? And then he felt a wave of self-hate for feeling anything good.</p><p class="p1">Face still hot and wet, he found the kit and took everything out again. Just like when he revisited the closet, he approached it with a bit more purpose. He opened the glass bottle and smelled it - it was potent, but a lovely floral scent. He put a bit on his finger to taste it - <em>nope, did not taste like it smelled</em>. He put it aside and picked up the silver tube. He looked it over, holding it with both hands. He began to roll it between his fingers, pulling on each end until he realized it was pulling apart into two tubes. Inside one of them he could see something soft and red; it looked like paint. He twisted it and the paint came up out of the tube, looking more like the tip of a marker. He looked over at the photo of his mother, lips painted red. He closed the tube and picked up the other photograph.</p><p class="p1">It appeared to be taken in the same dimly lit room, but his mother wasn’t there. A group of people, maybe ten of them, huddled together posing for the camera. They were so different from what Patrick knew. Colorful hair, let loose about their heads. Men and women with long hair, men and women with short hair. The people in the photo smiled. They held drinks and adorned themselves with jewels and beads around their necks and wrists and ears. Some wore hats - caps and top hats. People wore dresses and jean jackets and leather jackets and even one tuxedo.He had only seen outfits like these in his history books; it was jarring.</p><p class="p1">He picked up the photo of his mother again and flipped it over. There was writing on it. The word “canary.” And an address - he recognized the location, the town center.</p><p class="p1">Patrick didn’t stop to think. He pocketed the photo, grabbed his cap, and headed into town.</p><p class="p1">***</p><p class="p1">He stood where it should be, but there was no number. The door was boarded up. He recognized the run-down building - there were a handful like it throughout the otherwise clean, orderly town center. There were shops and restaurants and a tiny town green. He looked around, feeling a bit paranoid. It was almost nighttime, the sun nearly gone, and the streets were pretty empty save for a few police patrolling. He didn’t know what gave him the courage, but Patrick began to walk up the alley between the boarded up building and the shop to its left.</p><p class="p1">Halfway down the alley, he stopped at a stairwell that descended to a basement level. He wasn’t really thinking, but his feet moved him toward the stairs, then down each one, until he faced a wooden door, red paint chipped and peeling. He wasn’t really thinking, but he raised his arm and began to knock.</p><p class="p1">A soft knock came back from the other side.</p><p class="p1">“Um, can I come in?” He didn’t know what else to say.</p><p class="p1">Silence.</p><p class="p1">He pulled out the photograph. He flipped it over.</p><p class="p1">“Um, canary?”</p><p class="p1">The door opened.</p><p class="p1">It was pitch black inside, but before he could even take a step someone had grabbed a fist full of his suit square at his chest and pulled him into the dark entryway, slamming the door with his other arm.</p><p class="p1">“Why the fuck are you here?” The person pulling him was clearly suspicious and pissed. Rightfully so. Patrick didn’t even know why he was here.</p><p class="p1">“Let me ask again: how did a robot like you get the password?” Patrick still couldn’t see the man holding him.</p><p class="p1">“Okay, okay, I -“ Patrick stuttered. “I honestly just came across some of my dead mother’s belongings and she had it, okay? She had some weird pictures and this address and I don’t even know why I came.” He was surprised at his own honesty here, but it seemed to help. The grip loosened. The man stepped back and Patrick began to follow him through a darkened hallway.</p><p class="p1">His eyes started to adjust to the darkness, just enough to make out another door. Finally, the man flipped on a light that shone dimly, barely stretching back across the hall. But he could see him now - tall, broad shoulders, olive complexion, tall dark hair swooping over his head. Patrick’s heart pounded. He tried to swallow, but his throat was dry - this man was <em>beautiful</em>.</p><p class="p1">“Okay robot. Sorry if I was a bit rough back there, but we’ve never had one of you show up. I am…intrigued by your story, and you do have the password. Let’s see what the others think.” He turned to open the door and then twisted his head slightly back toward Patrick. “I’m David, by the way.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Our Wheels That Roll Around</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Thank you to those of you who read and commented on the first chapter! It's a trip to think about people reading something I wrote. I hope you enjoy this next one.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="p1">
  <b>David</b>
</p><p class="p1">David was always a late sleeper, but today it was especially difficult to get going. He never really knew <em>how</em> late he had slept when his eyes opened; the room was always dark. No light even crept through his window, which remained boarded up for protection.</p><p class="p1">Today, like almost every day, David would only see four other people - his house mates. Nonetheless, he still managed to put in his usual effort to get himself ready and presentable. It was one of the few things he had left anymore.</p><p class="p1">After a long shower and run through of his skin care routine, David carefully chose his outfit and then headed to the kitchen to make himself some toast and coffee.</p><p class="p1">“A little late for breakfast, don’t you think?” Stevie asked as she walked in through the apartment door. “The rest of us just finished lunch.”</p><p class="p1">David shot a very insincere smile at his roommate. “Thanks so much for your concern, I’m doing fine though.”</p><p class="p1">“Hmmm, yeah sleeping until two in the afternoon, seems like you’re doing <em>great</em>.”</p><p class="p1">David closed his eyes in exasperation and took a deep breath. “Do you really think it even matters what time I get up? Every day is the same. I am missing <em>literally</em> nothing by sleeping. We sit here, and we eat, and we play the same card games, and read the same books, and it’s all the same.” He knew he sounded like he was whining and perhaps a bit ungrateful — and maybe he was.</p><p class="p1">“Okay David, why don’t you go for a walk through the town green to <em>mix things up</em>? I am sure the police would welcome the thrill of roughing up a guy living off the grid.” Her words were thick with sarcasm, but her joking banter was gone.</p><p class="p1">David took another deep breath, waving his hands dismissively. “Yes, yes I know. We’re very lucky to be safe in here, trapped in the same house for the rest of our lives.” He had actually meant for that to be an apology, but halfway through his frustration and cynicism won out.</p><p class="p1">Stevie looked at him sympathetically. “It won’t always be like this. I have to believe that.” She shrugged weakly. “Come down to the Safe if you want. Everyone’s down there, and I think some mail arrived for you.”</p><p class="p1">***</p><p class="p1">David wandered down to the basement level. The room looked like it could be a restaurant or bar, filled with mismatched tables and couches that could probably accommodate fifty people; instead, there were three - his housemates who shared the apartment below his and Stevie’s. Angie and Jennifer sat at a table by the makeshift bar, sipping on glasses of wine. Jason was sprawled out on a couch reading a book. It looked like Stevie was off on lookout duty.</p><p class="p1">“A letter came for you today,” Angie offered as David sat down with them. She tucked her short brown hair behind one ear as she handed him an envelope. “I think it might be from Alexis!” Despite his sour mood, David couldn’t help but smile. Angie was probably the sweetest and most genuine person living in the house, and he could tell she was excited to brighten his day.</p><p class="p1">“You never did explain how you came to that conclusion,” Jennifer replied, looking fondly at her partner. Jennifer was kind, but certainly had more of David and Stevie’s edge.</p><p class="p1">“It’s the handwriting,” Angie shrugged. She pointed at the envelope, outlining the swirls and flourishes with her fingers in the air. Jennifer supplied a small laugh and grabbed her hand, pulling it into her lap. David’s eyes dropped to the letter. He was happy with his housemates, and he was happy for them. But feeling so confined and lonely as of late, it was sometimes difficult to watch people being in love.</p><p class="p1">He opened the envelope and pulled out a sheet of paper - definitely Alexis.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <em>David! I miss you!</em>
</p><p class="p1">
  <em>I’m sorry it’s been so long since I last wrote, but honestly there’s not much to tell. Still stuck in this apartment - at least you got stuck with STEVIE, and Angie and Jason and Jen. I am with MOM AND DAD. They are on my case about everything. I need a BREAK. It’s worse than that time I was stuck with Mutt for six months after we broke up and Tallahassee MOVED IN.</em>
</p><p class="p1">
  <em>The good news is mom and dad are working on a safe route so we might get to see you soon! Like, really soon David! I will keep you updated, but it could be as early as the end of the week! </em>
</p><p class="p1">
  <em>Please be out of your funk by the time I get there.</em>
</p><p class="p1">
  <em>Love you ~*Alexis* </em>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">So his family was coming here - after two years. Maybe. He knew not to get his hopes up; plans like this had been made and abandoned before. In fact, he was pretty certain that was going to happen again, but he allowed himself to hope. He missed his family dearly.</p><p class="p1">“Well?” Angie asked eagerly. “Anything good?”</p><p class="p1">David gave a small nod. “They are making plans to come - here.”</p><p class="p1">Jason looked over, from the couch. “Really? Kind of risky, no?” He tossed his book on the couch as he sat up, tying his blonde hair into a ponytail at the back of his neck.</p><p class="p1">“They’ll be smart about it,” Jennifer countered, shooting a mild glare at Jason. “I think it’s great.” David could tell she was trying to keep his spirits up; he felt both grateful and pathetic.</p><p class="p1">“They might not even make it. You know how these things go.” David walked over to the bar to grab a glass so he could join in the drinking.</p><p class="p1">“No - no, I bet they make it this time. It’s been so long,” Jason pivoted, clearly taking Jennifer’s cue. David felt disgusted with himself. <em>Have I been so bad that they need to handle me with these kid gloves?</em></p><p class="p1">“Maybe.” He began to pour some wine when Jason cleared his throat.</p><p class="p1">“Uh, David, you’re on lookout tonight.”</p><p class="p1">David stopped pouring and groaned. He emptied the contents of his glass into Angie’s.</p><p class="p1">“Hey, why does she get it?” Jennifer asked, stealing her girlfriend’s glass and sipping it as Angie laughed, reaching to try and get it back.</p><p class="p1">David stood up, deciding to relieve Stevie early. Feeling a bit guilty about his sulking, he would be generous, even though he would much rather drink than keep watch. He knew it was important, but it could be quite boring.</p><p class="p1">He didn’t know it yet, but that would not be the case tonight.</p><p class="p1">David sat outside the Safe at the basement entrance, down a pitch-black hallway, using a tiny flashlight to read. He had an old battered copy of<em> Pride and Prejudice</em> in his lap; even though it was one of his favorite romance stories, he was still finding it difficult to enjoy.</p><p class="p1">He knew it was going to be a long, slow shift. Typically the only visitors were anonymous figures dropping off mail, food, or other supplies, part of a well-bribed network that sustained the wealthy living underground as well as those in power with more illicit tastes. Still, David and his little group were in hiding. They were breaking the laws by existing, living off the grid with no identification numbers, not to mention the countless other laws and rules they defiantly ignored.</p><p class="p1">It didn’t always feel so dangerous; his parents’ money had ensured him a degree of protection, basic staples, and even small luxuries such as wine, books, and household comforts like kitchen appliances and bedding. He enjoyed the company he kept, even if he missed his family in hiding hundreds of miles away. Having Stevie with him helped - she was family too.</p><p class="p1">But the danger was real. He didn’t know a single person in hiding who hadn’t had a friend or loved one killed.</p><p class="p1">David reached over his shoulder and felt the handgun, strapped to the back of the folding chair. <em>Just to be safe</em>. He was trained to use it, but never wanted to.</p><p class="p1">And suddenly, there it was - a knock at the door.<b></b></p><p class="p1"> </p><p class="p1">
  <b>Patrick</b>
</p><p class="p1">Patrick followed David through the door. He had never been more terrified in his life - this was easily the most reckless thing he had ever done.</p><p class="p1">They entered a large open basement. A tall wooden counter stood in the back, littered with glasses and bottles. The floor was scattered with seating - a few couches, plush chairs, and several small tables like you’d see at a café. Strings of tiny white lights criss-crossed above him, loosely hanging off tiny hooks that dotted the ceiling. They cast a soft light across the room. In his world, decorations and flair were uncommon. But it was…nice.</p><p class="p1">A small group stood together by the counter, chatting with drinks in hand.</p><p class="p1">“Well my friends, we have a visitor!” David announced gesturing toward Patrick as he entered the room. Everyone turned and stared. Feeling exposed, Patrick grabbed nervously at the fabric of his suit, then reached up and took off his cap and ran a hand through the messy curls. He looked at David, who watched him with a small, bemused smile.</p><p class="p1">“Okay, what the flying fuck is going on? Why is this guy here?” A small woman with long dark hair stepped forward. She wore loose denim jeans and a white t-shirt, not unlike what Patrick slept in at night.</p><p class="p1">“He had the password,” David replied, putting up his hands in defense. Patrick looked at David again. Despite the fear coursing through him, he couldn’t collect himself. He wanted to keep watching David, who sat casually on the edge of a table. Patrick’s eyes darted up and down, wanting to take it all in at once - the little smile, the thick hair, his black sweater, tightly-fitted white jeans. Patrick felt his body begin to move toward him, but quickly stopped.<em> What are you doing? Get it together.</em></p><p class="p1">He looked back at the dark-haired woman and the rest of the group.</p><p class="p1">“I’m sorry. I found this and I just - needed to see.” Patrick pulled the photo from his pocket and offered it to her. As her eyes settled on the picture, a small, tender smile began to spread .</p><p class="p1">“That’s my mother,” he said.</p><p class="p1">“She’s stunning,” the dark-haired woman’s smiled broadened.</p><p class="p1">“Stevie, let me see!” David hopped off the table and sidled up behind her, looking over her shoulder. A soft smile appeared on David’s face as well.</p><p class="p1">Soon the photo was being passed around, evoking fond smiles and solemn nods. Patrick felt uncomfortable, like the picture said something very specific to everyone in the room. They were all in on it, but he was in the dark.</p><p class="p1">Arms crossed, Stevie stepped toward Patrick. “So, robot. Did mom ever tell you anything about her past?”</p><p class="p1">“Um, nothing that would explain this. I always thought she grew up like me - normal.”</p><p class="p1">“He’s normal!” Stevie laughed, looking at David. “Well, let me tell you something, robot -“</p><p class="p1">“Patrick,” he corrected. "Brewer."</p><p class="p1">“Patrick,” Stevie continued. “You aren’t normal. Not that I believe in normal, but if this is your mom, you’re probably a little different.”</p><p class="p1">“We had hardwood floors,” Patrick said weakly. It was the first thing that came to mind, and he regretted it instantly.</p><p class="p1">David laughed. “She had taste then.”</p><p class="p1">“Patrick, come here.” Stevie led Patrick to a table in the back corner of the room. David followed and joined them as they sat down.</p><p class="p1">“Jason, can you bring us some drinks?” She called over to the group still chatting quietly over the photo. “And can someone take over lookout duty? David seems to have abandoned his post.” She gave David a small smirk.</p><p class="p1">A man with a short blonde beard, long hair tied back, walked over with a glass bottle filled with a deep red liquid and four glasses. Stevie poured and thanked him. Jason smiled before returning to the others, glass in hand.</p><p class="p1">Stevie and David each grabbed a glass and held them up toward their chins. “To visitors,” Stevie laughed. Patrick still hadn’t touched his glass, but could tell they were waiting. He finally mimicked their little ritual, and cautiously sipped his drink. His face scrunched tightly at the sour notes, pulling another laugh out of David and Stevie.</p><p class="p1">“Robots don’t drink alcohol, do they?” Stevie asked through her laugh.</p><p class="p1">Patrick flushed. “No, it’s illegal.” He put down the glass and pushed it a few inches away.</p><p class="p1">“Well this is called <em>wine</em>,” Stevie explained, emphasizing the syllables as though she was teaching a new word to a toddler. Patrick’s eyes narrowed, but he felt a small jolt of pleasure. <em>She’s funny</em>.</p><p class="p1">“Stevie, play nice,” David replied, smiling. “Patrick, unless you tell on yourself, no one will know if you want to enjoy this wine with us. So don’t worry about what’s legal down here. If you aren’t interested in drinking with us, that’s another story.”</p><p class="p1">“We are fun to drink with, though,” Stevie said, nudging the glass back toward Patrick, eyeing him mischievously.</p><p class="p1">Patrick finally smiled. He couldn’t help it. Resigned, he took a deep breath, and began to take some small sips from his glass. Stevie sat back. David’s eyes sparkled. Patrick felt something warm growing in his chest, seeing David’s delight.</p><p class="p1">“Okay! Patrick. Here’s the deal,” Stevie began. “We will give you some answers, but this is sensitive stuff. When you go back out there, you <em>can’t</em> talk about any of this. I mean it. We’d all be killed.” </p><p class="p1">“People <em>have</em> been killed,” David added.</p><p class="p1">Patrick was startled by these warnings, but nodded. He was scared for himself, if he was being honest. What would happen if anyone found out he had been here? Had consumed alcohol? No, he wouldn’t tell a soul.</p><p class="p1">“And you trust my word? You just met me.”</p><p class="p1">“You had the password,” Stevie stated matter of factly. “And honestly, it was pretty risky for you to come by yourself and find us. So I think it’s important to you.”</p><p class="p1">Patrick nodded.</p><p class="p1">“Well Patrick, take a look around - this basement is where your photo was taken.” David gestured with his arms sweeping across the room. “Once upon a time, this was a hub of the resistance.”</p><p class="p1">“Resistance against what?” Patrick asked, confused.</p><p class="p1">Stevie laughed bitterly. “The world out there, Patrick. The government. I mean, I know you’re a robot and all, but you know it’s not - <em>right</em> out there, don’t you?”</p><p class="p1">Patrick nodded just slightly, feeling uncomfortable. All of those thoughts he had lodged deep into the back of his mind began to creep up - every time he had seen an arrest, or a dead body; the suffocating sensation he felt from the conformity of it all, combined with the stinging shame every time he felt like he stood out. He took a large sip of wine.</p><p class="p1">David was staring at him, the faintest of smiles at the corner of his mouth. Patrick felt his skin heating up again. He felt it any time they locked eyes - but he also felt exposed - these deviant thoughts he worked so hard to conceal were suddenly being discussed openly, and even though David and Stevie were validating those thoughts, Patrick felt untethered. Before he could spiral any further, David continued his story.</p><p class="p1">“So, back then before most of us were born, people gathered to find ways to - <em>sabotage</em> the operations of the government. Identify weaknesses. Spread information. Just, make things harder for them.”</p><p class="p1">“But those pictures…” Patrick trailed off. His mother, those people were celebrating, not strategizing a revolution.</p><p class="p1">David could tell what he was thinking. “You might not see it this way yet, but practicing joy is part of the resistance. They don’t want us to be happy like that. Our parents, they had as much fun as they could so they would remember what they were fighting for.” David watched Patrick closely. His eyes were gentle but steady.</p><p class="p1">Patrick’s head was swimming. He bristled at the idea that he had been denied happiness. Despite the uncomfortable questions he tried to ignore, he had been plenty happy. He liked his life and his job. He had enjoyed school and sports. His parents and friends and Rachel made him happy. Didn’t they?</p><p class="p1">But he couldn’t miss what David had said - <em>you might not see it this way yet </em>- yet. Like David was so sure Patrick would come around, eventually. Like David knew Patrick already had at some level, but just hadn’t said so.</p><p class="p1">He noticed something else, too. “<em>Our</em> parents?”</p><p class="p1">Stevie spoke up this time. “Yeah, Patrick. I mean, that’s why we’re here.”She poured herself another glass of wine.</p><p class="p1">“Let’s put it this way for now,” David continued. “Our parents’ generation? It didn’t turn out the same for everyone. Clearly, their attempts at sabotage failed. Some of them were found out and killed - “ he looked at Stevie quickly - “and some stayed underground, like my parents. And some left it all behind, joining the ranks of civilized society.” David sat back, taking a sip of wine.</p><p class="p1">“Like mine,” Patrick added softly. He reached for his glass, but realized it was empty. David lifted the bottle, and looked at Patrick - it was a question. Patrick nodded and David poured.</p><p class="p1">Patrick still had a lot of questions - far more, in fact, than when he arrived. But he couldn’t handle more information, and Stevie and David didn’t press him.</p><p class="p1">***</p><p class="p1">An hour had passed. Patrick had sat quietly, tuning in and out of David and Stevie’s banter. It was a lot to process. The boxes of food in his closet that had wrecked him the day before now seemed like nothing compared to these new revelations - about his family, the government, these strange new people living off the grid, and David. <em>David</em>. What was that all about? Finally he stood up, feeling unsteady. His head was light, and vision just a bit fuzzy. But he knew he had to get home.</p><p class="p1">“He’s drunk!” Stevie laughed delightedly.</p><p class="p1">“Are you okay?” David grabbed his bicep to steady him. Patrick’s knees buckled at his touch. He looked at him, and every impulse in his body wanted to move into David’s space. He took a deep breath, shook his head, and stood up straight.</p><p class="p1">“I’m fine, thanks.”</p><p class="p1">“I don’t feel great about sending you out like this.”</p><p class="p1">“I’ll be fine. I have to go. Thanks for your, uh, help.” Patrick moved to go. He pulled his cap back over his head, heading for the door. David followed.</p><p class="p1">“Bye robot!” Stevie called.</p><p class="p1">They walked through the dark hallway up to the first door, where Patrick had knocked hours earlier. Angie had taken over lookout, but scurried back to the basement as they approached.</p><p class="p1">Patrick couldn’t see David anymore. They stood at the door. Patrick turned to face him. “I won’t tell anyone about you, I promise.”</p><p class="p1">“Thank you,” David said softly. Patrick felt David’s hand brush down his own until their fingertips were lightly hooked together. Patrick’s skin heated again, his heart pounding. Of all the new feelings he would have to dissect, nothing came close to this…attraction. His brain told him to pull away. Instead, he took a step closer.</p><p class="p1">“I still have questions.”</p><p class="p1">“You’re free to come back, anytime,” David whispered. “You know the password.”</p><p class="p1">Suddenly Patrick did not want to leave. His mind rapidly ran through wild scenarios of abandoning his life “out there,” hiding in this basement forever. He could drink more wine and get to know the others, laugh and joke more with Stevie, and with David he could -</p><p class="p1">“Are you okay? You’re breathing really fast.” David put his free hand on Patrick’s chest. “Jesus, your heart!”</p><p class="p1">This wasn’t helping.</p><p class="p1">“I have to go.” Patrick pulled his hand away, stepped back toward the door. He unlocked it and opened it just a crack - even in the darkness of night, a bit of light seeped in so he could see David’s face one more time. He tried to relax, and smiled softly. “Good night, David.”</p><p class="p1">“Good night, Patrick.”</p><p class="p1">He stepped out into the night and started his quiet walk home. Halfway there, he realized he had left the photo of his mother.</p><p class="p1"> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. While the World Was Flying By</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <b>David</b>
</p><p>“David, <em> what </em> are you doing?” Stevie stood, arms crossed, as he walked back into the Safe. Besides her, the room was now empty.</p><p>David brushed past Stevie, pouring another glass of wine. He turned to look at her. “What?”</p><p>“David…” she began. “He is a fucking <em> ro-bot </em>. I know you have an eclectic taste when it comes to relationships, but seriously.”</p><p><em> Damnit Stevie </em>. She always knew.</p><p>“Stop scolding me. It’s nothing.”</p><p>“I know you.” Her eyes softened slightly. “Listen, I’m with you - the guy needed some answers, and he deserves to know his history. But you can’t get…attached.”</p><p>David’s eyes closed. He sipped his wine. Stevie was right, of course. David was so startled that a Citizen like Patrick had showed up at all, he hadn’t noticed his handsome face, his wild curls and bright eyes, not until they had entered the Safe. But then he did notice, and he could have left it at that. David saw beautiful people everywhere, after all. </p><p>It’s just that Patrick had kept <em> staring </em> at him…grazing his eyes up and down David’s face, blushing crimson every time David returned his gaze. He did not expect to elicit that reaction from a Citizen. Weren’t robots programmed to sort of, lack emotion? Weren’t they brainwashed to partner up in some sort of creepy, platonic arranged marriage?</p><p>“I think he liked me,” David finally replied. It came out as a joke.</p><p>“Well, he didn’t.” Stevie saw through his tone. “We all know they aren’t able to have those kinds of feelings. Honestly, he was probably just in shock - this was all a little world-changing for the guy.”</p><p>David thought for a moment. He considered holding back, but instead he pressed Stevie. </p><p>“You told him he wasn’t normal.”</p><p>Her eyes narrowed.</p><p>“His mother <em> was </em> here. Maybe she knew our parents even. Maybe he is…different.”</p><p>A series of expressions flashed across Stevie’s face - first she looked pissed, then pensive, then a bit…exhausted.</p><p>“I don’t know, maybe he is. But he’s not different enough, David. He’s one of them.”</p><p>David looked away and nodded. </p><p>But his mind returned to how he and Patrick had parted ways - bodies close, whispering, fingertips hooked together. He kept that for himself.</p><p>***</p><p>David couldn’t sleep. His head was buzzing. It was the exhilaration of something interrupting the mundane. Despite having lived off the grid for his entire life, there was a time when mobility was easier, safer, and the underground communities were more connected. To some degree he was <em> social</em>, had opportunities - life was more full. But now it had been two years of living with the same people, in the same old building hiding in the same Safe. </p><p>He had been raised to believe that preserving his individuality, his freedom, his authentic person was worth living in hiding. But lately it had felt more like surviving instead of actually living. </p><p>And with one knock at the basement door, all of that had changed.</p><p>***</p><p>The next night, David volunteered for lookout again. Stevie eyed him suspiciously, because she <em> knew,</em> of course she knew.</p><p>David sat, legs crossed, on the metal folding chair beside the door. He didn’t bring a book; tonight his own thoughts were enough to keep him busy. </p><p>As the night wore on, Jason appeared from the darkness of the hallway to relieve David of his post. </p><p>“I’ll take another hour.” Jason suppressed a smile but nodded and returned to the Safe.</p><p><em> God, this is embarrassing</em>. It was so transparent. </p><p>After ten minutes, David noticed his foot bouncing up and down nervously. He uncrossed his legs to steady himself, feet firmly on the ground. He had no real reason to believe Patrick was coming back tonight. It was late, and the odds diminished with each passing minute. Still, if he did show up, David wanted to be the one to let him in again. He wasn’t sure why. Maybe it had to do with their goodbye from the night before - quiet, alone, in the dark hallway -</p><p>A knock. David’s heart began thumping wildly; blood rushed to his face. He was thrilled by the break in the monotony - but equally thrilled to see Patrick’s bright, wide eyes looking him over again.</p><p>He softly returned the knock.</p><p>“Canary,” Patrick answered, just above a whisper. </p><p>David took a deep breath, then opened the door. Patrick stepped in quickly, still donning his grey suit and cap. Tucked under his arm was a small tin box. </p><p>“Welcome back,” David whispered.</p><p>“Yeah, thanks.” David couldn’t see Patrick’s face in the dark, but he sounded reserved - serious. “I have a few other things I wanted to show you.”</p><p>Patrick began walking past him toward the Safe, so David followed.</p><p>Inside Patrick stopped, looking around. He gave a polite nod to Jason, Jennifer, and Angie who were playing cards at a table. </p><p>“Looks like I’m up,” Jason said, tossing his cards on the table. He smiled at Patrick and gave David a quick pat on the shoulder as he left the room for lookout duty.</p><p>“So, Patrick, what did you want to show us?” David asked. </p><p>Patrick took a seat at the table where they had shared wine the night before, placing the tin box carefully on the surface. David joined him.</p><p>“Ok. I found this in the closet of my childhood home. I thought it was just a regular first aid kit, but clearly it was not.” He cleared his throat— he seemed to be avoiding David’s eyes, instead focusing on the box. “This is where I found that picture. There was another picture in here too…” He opened it.</p><p>Angie and Jennifer walked over, and Angie handed Patrick the photo of his mother he had left behind. David watched him take it; Patrick’s breathing sped up looking at it, panicked at what he saw, as though he was looking at it for the first time.</p><p>“Thanks. There was also this bottle -” David took the glass bottle from him, removed the stopper and took a small sniff.</p><p>“Perfume; it’s lovely.” He looked at Patrick, who averted his gaze quickly.</p><p>“What…is that?” He asked quietly. He sounded embarrassed.</p><p>“It’s just something people use to make themselves smell nice,” Angie offered. “May I?”</p><p>She demonstrated holding her finger to the open bottle, turning it over so it wet the tip of finger. She dabbed it on her wrists and rubbed them together, and then dabbed her neck.</p><p>Patrick smiled the tiniest smile, and then nodded. “There was also this -“ he pulled out a tube of lipstick. “I think it’s used to color one’s lips?”</p><p>All three nodded gently. </p><p>“Then there’s the other photo.” Patrick handed David a photo of a large group celebrating in the Safe. At first he smiled at their wild clothing, their laughter, their joy. Then he froze.</p><p>“Holy shit.” Angie and Jennifer rushed to look over his shoulder. “Those are Stevie’s parents.”</p><p>Patrick leaned over to look - David ran his finger over the photo and pointed to a couple who looked to be in their late twenties. They were right in the center, surrounded by the crowd. A man with messy black hair wore an emerald green suit over a white shirt and black tie that dangled loosely around his neck. In one hand he held a coup glass of champagne, his other arm draped around the shoulders of Stevie’s mom. Both figures crouched low to fit the large crowd within the photo. Stevie was the spitting image of her mother — her long, thick dark hair cascaded around the side of her head down one shoulder. The same scheming smile. </p><p>She wore a fitted sleeveless black dress, sparkling with sequins - David realized it was the same dress Patrick’s mother wore in the other photo.</p><p>David had been holding his breath - he exhaled loudly.</p><p>“We’ll get Stevie,” Jennifer said, and the two women hurried out of the Safe.</p><p>Finally, Patrick looked at David. “What happened to her parents, David?”</p><p>David swallowed. He suddenly grasped a real sense of Patrick’s innocence - or rather, an imposed innocence, an ignorance he was raised with in order for the world out there to keep everyone in line. Patrick didn’t <em> see </em> the ugly use of violence to maintain order and power. To him it was another necessary action taken to deal with…anything, or anyone, who was different. Different was dangerous. </p><p>David suddenly felt a bit vulnerable as he let himself consider where Patrick really came from and what he was raised to believe.</p><p>“They were killed by the government,” he replied simply. “They were caught living the way I live, the way Stevie lives.”</p><p>Patrick nodded, like he had already known the answer. He was definitely working something out in his head, but stayed quiet. Then, suddenly, he asked, “Where is Stevie now?”</p><p>“In our apartment, upstairs.”</p><p>Patrick stood up. “Okay. I - I need to go. You can keep the photo for Stevie. I just - I need to go.” He collected the contents of the box, packed them up, and rushed toward the door.</p><p>“Thanks again David.” He didn’t look at him as he left. </p><p>David stood there, alone, bewildered at Patrick’s rigid demeanor and abrupt exit. After a few minutes had passed, he heard the sudden explosion of gunshots outside.</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>Patrick</b>
</p><p>Patrick heard the gunshots just as he turned the corner to emerge from the alley. He leapt back, peering around the building, crouched low to the ground. It was late at night and dark, but he could see across the street: three police agents lifting a body, walking toward a van parked nearby.</p><p>Patrick had seen things like this before. He never thought twice about it - and when he did, he fought to rationalize it. You break the law, you face consequences. </p><p>All of his good fortune up to this point was because the government could keep the lawbreakers at bay. He never felt like he was in danger, because he was Patrick Brewer - he followed the rules; he had gone to school, played some sports, gotten a steady government job, arranged for his future with a solid match, and surrounded himself with friends and family who also played their part and obeyed the law. </p><p>But how true was that? His whole life he was raised by someone who apparently had been part of a resistance movement, actively challenging the government. And now, what about him? He had knowledge of people living off the grid, in hiding, breaking countless laws. He had <em> joined </em> them.</p><p>***</p><p>After returning home that first night he had met David and Stevie, Patrick had collapsed onto his bed. He was terrified of learning more, but the questions kept coming, and multiplying, and he knew he would be going back. He knew it was wrong, but something had shifted in his perspective. He couldn’t place it. If he had to articulate it, he would say he suddenly felt like a stranger in his own skin. Patrick couldn’t shake this sensation that everything felt - <em> fake </em>, a ruse designed to hide something from him. He had seen just enough, the ruse just barely chipped away. He needed to keep going.</p><p>The main problem was David. </p><p>Patrick’s parents had been affectionate with him, hugs and shoulder rubs and hands ruffling his hair, but it sort of died down by the time he graduated school. The idea of human touch seemed alien to him. He thought about the photo with the large group in their wild attire, arms tangled around each other, heads resting on shoulders as they smiled for the camera. It was unfamiliar and jarring to see people connecting this way.</p><p>All night he had been drawn to David. The minute he saw him, he wanted to touch him - his cheek, the side of his neck, his broad shoulders. He couldn’t explain it, but he needed to be near him. He thought about their fingers hooked together as they said goodbye; he had wanted to pull David close, but instead he had left. </p><p>He closed his eyes tight. If he was going to return to get more answers, he would need to keep his distance from David. It was a distraction he couldn’t quite control, and he would need control as he navigated this new reality he found himself in.</p><p>***</p><p>Still crouching in the alley, Patrick watched the van drive away. Adrenaline surged through his body. For the first time, he entertained questions about what he had seen. <em> Who did they just shoot, and why? How dangerous was that person, really? Did they have family, loved ones, that they were leaving behind? </em></p><p>Without thinking, Patrick’s body was controlling him again. He stood, ran back down the alley, down the stairwell, knocking on the door. “Canary!” he choked, before he could get a return knock.</p><p>The next few things happened in a blur - the door opened and Jason pulled Patrick in by his arm; he held a gun in the other hand, kicking the door shut quickly. The hallway was dimly lit from light escaping the basement door, left wide open as David came running toward him.</p><p>“Oh good, I thought it might have been -“</p><p>Patrick didn’t think, his body had taken over once more, and he rushed straight toward David, crashing forcefully into him. He hugged him tight around his waist, forehead straight into his chest. So much for that control.</p><p>“Oh!” David said, startled. Then he wrapped his arms around him. “Are you okay?”</p><p>“No,” Patrick breathed, squeezing tighter. </p><p>***</p><p>David walked Patrick up to his apartment. Stevie, who had met them downstairs, followed them up, sitting down at a small circular table in the kitchen. Patrick joined her, dazed. He took off his cap, ran a hand through his curls.</p><p>“I’d ask how you’re doing, but something tells me not great,” she offered. He smiled, but it was strained, holding back his fear and frustrations. He twisted the cap roughly with his hands, like he was wringing water from it.</p><p>“So what was it?” Stevie asked.</p><p>“Nothing - it seemed routine,” Patrick answered, and winced when he heard how cavalier that sounded.</p><p>“Can I get you something, some water, coffee?” David asked. </p><p>“Tea?” Patrick asked, not looking up.</p><p>David got to work with the hot water.</p><p>Patrick tossed his cap across the table, then smoothed his hands down the front of his suit. He looked at David in his black sweater and black jeans, Stevie in a navy blue t-shirt. He suddenly had to be out of this uniform, and stood up abruptly, unbuttoning the jacket until he could slip out of it, leaving only his white undershirt tucked into his slacks. He threw the jacket into the living room and sat again, forcefully. David and Stevie exchanged concerned looks.</p><p>“Sorry,” he muttered. “I’m not doing great.”</p><p>“Patrick, can you tell us a little bit about that?” Stevie asked gently.</p><p>He took a deep breath.</p><p>“I’m scared to go back out there. I know it’s the same as it always has been, but I think <em> I’m </em> different, and I think people are going to know. I can’t fake it. Can I - stay here, for a little while? I have another week off from work, and I just - I’d like to figure some things out.” Patrick was exhausted. He was realizing that he had been exhausted his entire life, straining to stay in line and follow his predetermined path, hide his doubts and questions about the world he lived in. He couldn’t do it all on top of working through this.</p><p>“Of course,” David assured him, setting his tea down on the table. Patrick took a sip, closing his eyes. <em> He could stay. </em> That would at least buy him some time as he got more answers and gained some composure.</p><p>“I can get you some bedding for the couch,” Stevie said, exchanging a look with David that Patrick couldn’t quite place.</p><p>“Actually, I’d rather stay with David,” he replied.</p><p>Stevie and David’s eyes both went wide. <em> Had he made a strange request? </em> He knew that in his world sharing a bed with another adult was not done - but it seemed like there were no rules here, and this is what he wanted to do. He was too exhausted to overthink it.</p><p>“I don’t know, is it okay with <em> you </em> David?” Stevie asked. <em> Was she teasing him? </em></p><p>“I mean, if that’s where you would be comfortable, Patrick,” David replied, ignoring her.</p><p>“It is,” he returned quickly. He took another sip of tea, and the three sat in silence, lost in their own thoughts, as he slowly emptied his mug.</p><p>***</p><p>“So, do you want me to set up on the floor here, or…?” David was straightening his blue and white quilt. His room was full of color, walls busy with art and photographs - some in frames, some tacked directly into the wall. His furniture was more simple, and everything was clean, neat, orderly. He had the same string of tiny white lights from the basement webbed across his ceiling.</p><p>“Can we share?” Patrick asked. The bed wasn’t large, but it could fit the two of them.  </p><p>“Sure, sure,” David nodded, but sounded a bit - <em>un </em>sure.</p><p>“I don’t have to David, I’m just trying to be as honest as possible right now, and I think…being close to you will make me feel safe. I’m sorry if earlier…” He trailed off, thinking about how he had strained to avoid looking at David, how different he must have seemed from the night they met. Patrick gathered himself. “I’m sorry if I came off as rude or short with you. I’ve got a lot going on.” He locked eyes with David, whose face seemed to be struggling with something. </p><p>David cleared his throat. “I’d like to help you feel safe, Patrick. Let’s get you set up.” He dug through a small black bag sitting on his nightstand and pulled out some small bottles. “Here’s some soap - there should be some unopened toothbrushes in the bathroom.”</p><p>After he washed up, David left to do the same. Patrick slipped off his suit slacks and settled into bed, which was tucked into a corner of the room. He propped a pillow against the headboard and leaned back into it, sitting up on the side closest to the wall. When David returned, he stopped abruptly for a minute, looking at Patrick in his bed. David had changed into sweatpants and a t-shirt. He put down his things and slowly mimicked Patrick’s position, placing his hands on his lap.</p><p>Patrick thought about the photo with Stevie’s parents, and all the other people smiling for the camera. He let his head sink to rest on David’s shoulder.</p><p>David swallowed. “What about me makes you feel safe? You don’t even know me.” There was a hesitance in the question, like he didn’t really want to ask. Patrick thought for a minute.</p><p>“You’re surviving. I didn’t know people could live this way, hidden from the government. You’ve done it your whole life.”</p><p>“I’ve had a lot of help. My parents are quite wealthy,” David replied. That was interesting - Patrick would have to explore that one later.</p><p>“Hmm. Well, it doesn’t make it any less true. I see you and Stevie and the others, and you can take care of yourselves, even when you’re risking your lives. It’s so...brave. And you just seem to know a lot about what’s going on out there — I feel like I’m totally lost.” Patrick lifted his head to look at David.</p><p>“I’m sorry,” he said softly. “That must feel awful. But I can’t protect you, Patrick - there’s nowhere that’s really safe in this world.”</p><p>Patrick took one of David’s hands, lacing their fingers together. He let his head fall on David’s shoulder again.</p><p>“I feel safe here.”</p><p> </p>
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<a name="section0004"><h2>4. The Past and Future Town</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Quick heads up - this chapter briefly references the book/film Into the Wild -- they aren't really spoilers per se since it's a true story, but if you want to avoid some key events or if the story bothers you, it's brought up about halfway through the chapter.</p><p>Hope you enjoy, thanks for reading!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <b>David</b>
</p><p>When David woke up the next morning, he was momentarily startled to be sharing his bed with someone, but the surreal memories from the day before quickly returned. Patrick slept soundly on his left side facing the wall; he wasn’t snoring, but breathing in a content and steady rhythm. David stretched out on his back, staring at the ceiling as he tried to make sense of it all.</p><p>When Patrick first appeared at his building, David’s defensive instincts had flared - a robot at their door could be a death sentence. But Patrick had been scared, and still pushed through with his sweet sincerity and curiosity to get answers to his questions. Last night Patrick had told David he was brave, but when David thought of this man who had lived his whole life in such a rigid, oppressive world venturing into this underbelly of society - well he thought that was pretty fucking brave too.</p><p>Patrick had been cautious, but he didn’t judge this strange group of people living in hiding - he had met them at their level, shared their wine, <em> thanked </em> them for their help. David couldn’t help it; he liked him. He worried a bit that Patrick had such a warped understanding of reality, but he wondered how true that was. He could have chosen a thousand different paths that would save himself but hurt David and his friends — logical, law-abiding paths that he had been taught to follow his whole life - he had decided to protect them instead. He had decided to trust them. He was <em> good</em>.</p><p>Of course, he still had to work out the other part. David couldn’t help but indulge in the very clear affection Patrick held for him. If one of David’s exes had been giving off these signals, it would be obvious what they thought of him. But with Patrick he couldn’t be sure. Was it just that he trusted David and craved human connection? He had so readily moved to rest his head on David’s shoulder, had taken his hand. <em> I feel safe here</em>. David thought about the first night he had arrived and the deep blush that crept up Patrick’s neck and face when they locked eyes…the thought made him a little lightheaded.</p><p>He quietly slinked out of bed and headed for the kitchen.</p><p>“How was your <em> sleepover</em>?” Stevie asked, shooting a sinister grin toward David. She sat with a coffee, the photo of her parents laid out on the table. </p><p>David glared, then collapsed dramatically into the chair next to her. </p><p>“I don’t know! It was…very weird,” he lowered his voice. “It was nice. He’s sweet. And…he trusts me.”</p><p>Stevie rolled her eyes.</p><p>“But Stevie, I don’t know if he knows what he’s doing. He’s really intense, but they don’t have normal relationships out there, right?”</p><p>“So you want to know if he likes you, or if he <em> like </em> likes you.” Stevie stared at David, eyes absolutely shining with laughter.</p><p> “I am so close to pouring that hot coffee in your lap.”</p><p>Just then, Patrick walked in. “You guys talking about me?”</p><p>David froze, but Patrick was smiling. He walked past the two of them and began to prepare his own tea as though he had always been their third roommate.</p><p>“Sleep well, Patrick?” Stevie asked in a sarcastic tone that David wasn’t sure Patrick would recognize.</p><p>“This one takes over the bed, but otherwise yes,” he replied, and walked over to give David’s shoulder a quick squeeze.</p><p>David closed his eyes to avoid looking at whatever face Stevie was making, lips folding into his mouth to suppress a smile. He knew she would have a lot of fun with that, but David was also delighted by this version of Patrick. One night of restful sleep and he was suddenly so confident and at ease.</p><p>When he opened his eyes, Stevie was smiling at him, but she looked <em> fond</em>. She turned to Patrick.</p><p>“I need to thank you for sharing this picture of my parents with me. I haven’t seen many of them.”</p><p>“You’re welcome,” Patrick replied as he finished pouring his hot water, spinning around to look at the two of them, mug in hand. “You can keep it, if you want.”</p><p>Stevie smiled softly, looking back down at the picture. </p><p>“David, meet me back in your room? I’d like to talk.” Patrick was already on his way out of the kitchen.</p><p>In a low but animated voice, Stevie turned to David. “Okay, <em> he’s </em> direct. Maybe I was wrong about him. Also, did something…happen last night?”</p><p>“No!” David shouted defensively. “It was completely innocent.”</p><p>“That’s not innocent,” she replied, pointing toward David’s room. </p><p>“Okay, you are really starting to stress me out.” David stood up quickly, the chair screeching loudly across the kitchen floor. “If this goes poorly, I’m blaming <em> you</em>.”</p><p>“Have a fun talk!”</p><p>***</p><p>Patrick sat on the bed, sipping his tea as he looked up at David walking into the room. “Hey,” he smiled. “Thanks again for letting me stay. I know it was a pretty sudden request.”</p><p>“It’s nothing,” David waved away the “thank you” with his hand as he sat down. “I should probably find you some extra clothes at some point, though.”</p><p>“That would be great. Thank you, David.”</p><p>They sat in awkward silence for a moment - what did he want to <em> talk </em> about?</p><p>“So what’s your plan today?” Patrick suddenly asked.</p><p>“Plan...?” David didn’t actually know.</p><p>“Yeah, what do you do all day, anyway?”</p><p>“Well, we uh, alternate lookout duty, sometimes we socialize in the Safe, read…” he trailed off, watching Patrick nodding, encouraging David to continue, as though he was waiting for something.</p><p>“So you have all this free time, and you don’t <em> do </em> anything?” </p><p>“We are in hiding, okay! Our options are limited. What do you want from me?” David replied in defense, his voice loud now.</p><p>Patrick smirked. “Uh huh.”</p><p>“Listen, don’t you worry about me. You’re the one on some journey of self-discovery. What’s <em> your </em> plan?” </p><p>Patrick looked at David like he wanted to keep needling him, but his expression softened.</p><p>“I noticed a bookshelf in the basement - can I take a look at that?”</p><p>David nodded. “After breakfast.”</p><p>***</p><p>David, Patrick, and Stevie spent the morning enjoying a leisurely meal of pancakes and eggs. </p><p>“Where do you get the food?” Patrick asked.</p><p>“We have contacts,” David replied simply. Although he found himself trusting Patrick more and more, he wasn’t giving up all their secrets - it was still too dangerous. Patrick didn’t seem to mind and nodded as he ate a large forkful of eggs.</p><p>“You know, I love to cook,” Patrick said.</p><p>“Done!” Stevie exclaimed. “That’s your rent for your stay here this week, Brewer.”</p><p>Patrick smiled broadly and David’s heart skipped a beat — that was a new, and beautiful look on him.</p><p>After breakfast Patrick explored the kitchen, looking through their cabinets and fridge, mumbling to himself as he listed off things he could cook with ingredients on hand. It was unbelievably endearing. David sorted out some clothes for Patrick’s stay, mostly poorly fitted jeans and t-shirts people had left behind. In the late afternoon, they headed down to the Safe.</p><p>***</p><p>David had begun tossing piles of books onto a table - it was all so random, from Shakespeare to Franzen to Plato to Austen - but they had whatever they could get ahold of. When the underground had been better connected, books came and went, but David and his group had been reading from the same library for years now. </p><p>He joined Patrick on the couch, watching him marvel at the books. He looked fascinated as he picked up each one, examining the jackets, flipping through pages. His eyes shone with both fear and wonder at these relics from an earlier time - stories that had been purposely hidden from him. Almost absentmindedly, he reached over and took David’s hand while his other explored the books.</p><p>David welcomed it, he really <em> liked </em> it, but still wasn’t sure what it was to Patrick or how to even ask. He shut his eyes tight and pulled away, placing both hands firmly on his lap. Patrick’s eyes darted to his, questioning, and David couldn’t handle it, so he began fumbling through a paperback to keep his own hands busy.</p><p>And then Patrick returned his focus to the books, but placed his rejected hand on David’s <em> knee</em>. What the fuck.</p><p>Patrick didn’t look back up, but that smirking smile was back on his face.</p><p>
  <b>Patrick</b>
</p><p>Patrick sort of felt like he was in a dream. His perspective had so radically shifted in such a short time that nothing actually felt real - he couldn’t quite catch up to it. He should have been terrified - hiding in this building, with these people, stripped of his suit, shedding himself of all the pressure he had carried throughout his life. </p><p>But he wasn’t terrified. He hadn’t been lying when he told David that he felt safe with him. </p><p>It was more than that though, wasn’t it? When Patrick woke up that morning, David was already up and gone. He had laid there, considering his attraction to David - the magnetic pull he seemed to have, drawing Patrick into his physical orbit. And it <em> was </em> that he felt safe and comforted by this man who seemed so confident and capable. But it was also seeing David’s love for the people around him; it radiated when he was with Stevie, despite their sarcastic jabs at one another. And he was <em> smart </em> - David was quick and sharp in every sense; alert. And though his whole life he had been confined to this underground society, he seemed <em> worldly </em> in a way Patrick did not yet even fully understand.</p><p>This fixation on a single person — a fixation tied up in physicality and comfort and respect - was new. He <em> wanted </em> - physical connection and attention and to be wanted in return. It was a lot to feel in addition to everything else. And yet, something about David anchored him, and the feelings came easy.</p><p>***</p><p>He continued to look through the books David had brought him, not sure where to start. Finally, one caught his eye. It was a paperback, the cover displaying a black and white photograph of an old bus covered in snow. He picked it up and flipped to the first page - another photograph of the bus, no snow, but towering behind a smiling bearded man, sitting in a chair with his legs crossed.</p><p>“Ah, <em> Into the Wild</em>,” David observed as he noticed Patrick’s interest. “That one’s a true story.”</p><p>“What’s it about?” Patrick began leafing through the pages, already deeply curious but overwhelmed by the unfamiliar names and places scattered throughout.</p><p>“Basically some guy who gave up all his money and left his family to explore his country. They eventually found him dead in that bus after he ate some poison potato seeds out in the woods.”</p><p>“Not a fan?” Patrick asked, becoming increasingly intrigued by the story.</p><p>“I don’t know - I’m probably being unfair. Living in hiding my whole life, it’s hard to relate to a guy who gives up his comforts and family to essentially make his life harder. I also don’t like non-fiction very much.” He shrugged.</p><p>“I want to read it,” Patrick replied, and sank into the couch.</p><p>***</p><p>Three chapters in, Patrick was hooked. The story spoke to him on many levels. Even though it took place in the early 1990s — nearly two hundred years ago - he found himself relating to the “guy” - Chris McCandless, who had struggled with the world he was raised in, had abandoned what he felt was a corrupted society, desperately pursuing something more real and pure. Patrick didn’t recognize either of the worlds that McCandless had lived in — one obsessed with status, wealth, and materialism, the other an existence of transience and <em> wilderness </em>. </p><p>But he could feel that same tension - knowing his world was not <em> right</em>, and the realization that there was a place to escape to where he could be more himself, or at least figure out what that meant.</p><p>“I wish we could leave the house together,” Patrick said quietly, thinking about McCandless taking off across the open road. He looked over at David.</p><p>“Mmm,” was all he replied as he read his own book. He put it down. “We used to be able to do that a bit more. Then the police presence really ramped up. There aren’t many safe spaces, or even safe routes to the other safe houses, anymore.”</p><p>That was interesting. How many other safe houses were there? He hadn’t considered how many people lived off the grid.</p><p>Then he processed what David was telling him.</p><p>“How long have you been here?”</p><p>“We haven’t left in two years.” David tensed up, just a bit. This was a sore spot - Patrick could feel it. </p><p>A quiet rage bubbled up in Patrick’s chest. It was the injustice of the whole thing, these good people that had to live in fear, lives always in danger.</p><p>But it was David, too - this man who Patrick saw as larger than life, in personality and intellect and presence, confined to this one house forever.</p><p>Even as the rage grew louder, heating Patrick’s skin, he tempered it, responding weakly, “I’m sorry David. I — that’s really unfair.”</p><p>David was quiet for a minute longer.</p><p>“It is what it is. But, I might have an idea.”</p><p>David closed his book so he could get up from the couch, but was silent on whatever that idea might be.</p><p>***</p><p>That evening, Stevie, David, and Patrick enjoyed a modest dinner together. Although Patrick wanted to meet the other housemates, they had kept things small that day.</p><p>Despite her rent demands, Stevie herself had thrown together some pasta and jarred tomato sauce. They all sipped on wine, even Patrick. Patrick got a brief glimpse into the lives of the Rose family, a cast of characters who frankly sounded made up based on the stories recounted by David and Stevie. Then again, he probably would have thought the same thing about his current company just a few days ago. </p><p>David and Stevie peppered him with questions about life on the outside, and he could tell they were puzzled by the fondness he showed for his work, the people he knew, his family - that there could be <em> anything </em> good out there. The gulf between them was still very real, but he tried to take it in stride. </p><p>After dinner Patrick helped Stevie clean while David disappeared into his room. He washed each dish and utensil, handing them over to Stevie to dry. Once a few minutes of silence had passed between them, Stevie put down the plate she was drying and threw the dish towel over her shoulder, shifting to look at Patrick.</p><p>“I am sorry about all the robot stuff when you first got here. I have to admit, I made a lot of assumptions. And now - I’m, well - I’m kind of getting my own education about life out there, and what people can be like.”</p><p>Patrick felt himself choke up. Despite their kindness toward him, he knew they despised where he came from and were still suspicious. And he understood, but didn’t want to be seen as an enemy. Patrick felt such a strong well of affection for Stevie at that moment, he pulled her into a hug, soapy hands and all. She pushed him off.</p><p>“Ugh, dry your hands Brewer!” She cried out, but she was laughing. Then the smile faded, just a bit. “I don’t know what’s going on with you and David, but I know there’s something. Just - please be good to him - he’s more fragile than he seems.” She took a deep breath, as though to reset from her lapse into sincerity. “Plus he can be a real downer after a breakup.” It was clearly meant to lighten the mood - but the sincerity was still there.</p><p>***</p><p>With the kitchen cleaned, Patrick wandered into David’s room and froze. The window was no longer boarded up - its curtains were cast to the side, opening up the room to the rest of the world, inviting in the cool night air. For a wild second Patrick thought David had fled - but no, he had cleared the nightstand by the window and set up a tall glass bottle with two drinking glasses.</p><p>David stood a bit awkwardly by the bed, working hard to suppress a smile. Patrick took a step toward him.</p><p>“What’s this all about?"</p><p>David looked at the window, unable to hide the smile anymore, and suddenly seemed embarrassed by his gesture. “You wanted to leave the house - this is the best I could do.”</p><p>Patrick felt a warmth inside that David had put this - whatever it was - together for him. “It’s nice,” he replied softly. </p><p>Then David began <em> stepping outside </em> the window.</p><p>“David!” He lunged forward to grab his arm, but David resisted.</p><p>“There’s a fire escape here,” he explained. Patrick peered outside - the window faced the alley, which was dark and private, but they would be quite visible if police happened to turn from the town square and look up. It was too dangerous.</p><p>“David, no, someone will see, we’ll get caught.”</p><p>David was completely outside now, crouching on the small fire escape and looking through the window at Patrick.</p><p>“Look - I know it’s a risk. But this is the most I’ve gotten outside in <em> years</em>. Until you showed up at our door, the monotony was killing me, Patrick. And I know you’re here to figure things out and it’s all very scary and new, but I <em> need </em> this.”</p><p>He sounded so desperate - Patrick couldn’t say no. He could be brave, like David. He could be brave for David.</p><p>Patrick stepped onto the fire escape and sat down. David relaxed and happily reached over him, back into his room to grab the bottle and glasses. </p><p>“Don’t tell Stevie,” he warned.</p><p>They sat there, quietly sipping on - <em> champagne</em>, David had said - for a few minutes, letting the cool night air wash over them. Patrick had to admit, it felt good in the fresh air, the wine and champagne softening his thoughts. His limbs began to relax. Then Patrick looked at David. </p><p>He had never seen a person so content. David’s eyes were closed, head tilted back, a soft smile on his face. He was simply stunning in his joy, basking in this small taste of freedom under the night sky.  </p><p>Patrick’s breath caught, and he suddenly wanted so much - to snap a photo of this moment, to wrap his arms, his whole body around this man, to give up everything to stay in his presence. </p><p>To free him.</p><p>Instead, he again reached for his hand.</p><p>
  <b>David</b>
</p><p>David was jolted out of his moment of tranquility as Patrick grabbed his hand, looking at him with such warmth that David’s own face burned. He had to look away.</p><p>Okay, enough.</p><p>David took a deep breath. “Patrick, can I ask you something?”</p><p>Patrick turned to him, big brown eyes searching David’s.</p><p>“What does this -” he looked at their hands, then back up. “- what does it mean to you?”</p><p>Patrick squeezed tighter, but stayed quiet. David tried another tack.</p><p>“I don’t totally know the specifics of how this works in your world, but I think you are sort of <em> forced </em> to partner up with people? But here we do that by choice - it’s on our own terms and sometimes it’s for lust or companionship or ideally both -“ He stopped as he felt himself rambling, but Patrick was studying him intently.</p><p>“I’ve had many relationships, um - romantic relationships,” he continued. “And this is sometimes a way to show you are interested in that type of thing?” Suddenly he felt like he had said something wrong - he was either revealing too much at best, or being patronizing at worst.</p><p>Patrick smirked. It was the latter. “Yes, believe it or not that happens out there, too.” Patrick’s smile faded. “It’s usually squashed by someone, though - parents, teachers, doctors. I suppose some matches end up working out that way, but it’s discouraged - too distracting.”</p><p>David felt sick at the thought of this world where people fell in love but were taught it was wrong. </p><p>“You still haven’t answered the question,” David said, lifting their hands, still clasped together. And Patrick remained quiet, but he looked down as a warm smile spread across his face.</p><p>David’s heart swelled, and he suddenly wanted to save Patrick from this world of being <em> denied</em>, such an unnecessary denial of joy - and not just save him to keep him here, with David - he wanted that too - but he wanted to tear the whole thing down, start the world anew.</p><p>Instead, he brought his free hand to cup Patrick’s face, then the back of his head, and gently pulled him close. And David had no idea if Patrick even had <em> seen </em> a kiss before, or how he would react but -</p><p>Patrick leaned in and kissed him fiercely, and the shock and pleasure of it all made David dizzy, and he could have stayed that way all night.</p><p>But Patrick pulled back, just a bit, looking at David. “Oh,” he said quietly, with a bit of wonder in his voice and the smallest of smiles on his lips.</p><p>“Yeah,” David breathed.</p><p>And they kissed again, and kept kissing, each desperately hoping to save the other, to tear down the awful world around them, and become just a little bit more free.</p><p> </p>
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<a name="section0005"><h2>5. When the Features Start to Blur</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong>Patrick</strong>
</p><p>When Patrick was a child, his father would prepare elaborate weekend breakfasts. Patrick would crawl out of bed, lured by the smells of fresh-baked bread or muffins, the crackling of bacon or sizzling of pancakes on the griddle. He’d watch his father at work, and sometimes helped by cracking an egg or stirring some batter. His mother would set the table, and the little family would eat together, a tiny moment of solace before the tasks they faced that day.</p><p>The breakfasts became fewer as Patrick got older, but he had inherited his father’s skills in the kitchen. And if he had learned anything about David during these past few days, it was that he loved food. He also had to earn his keep, according to Stevie. </p><p>That’s how Patrick found himself the next morning, nursing a bit of a hangover from the wine (and, well, David), arranging ingredients on the kitchen table to make breakfast. </p><p>Some cans of tomatoes, a decent collection of spices, flour, eggs, a can of beans, bread, and some strawberries almost on their way out. For a moment he wondered if the food needed to be rationed more carefully - how often did they get deliveries? Based on what he had seen, though, this had not been a problem. He studied his options and got to work.</p><p>He cooked for the better part of the morning, doing his best to perfect some of his father’s specialties. And as he moved about the kitchen, chopping and stirring and keeping up with dishes, he thought about David. </p><p>Whatever this was between them had transformed from an unnameable attraction to something very different - an abstract thing that he wanted had become a slightly clearer thing that he <em> had</em>. </p><p>Remembering last night, Patrick was eager for David to wake up, to offer him this small expression of gratitude - to be in his space for just a little bit longer.</p><p>And that was the other side of it. The more he reveled in his current state of happiness, the more acutely aware he became that time was running out. He would have to leave at the end of the week - there was no way around it. He really should be checking in with his poor father. And even besides that, he could never just disappear. He had an ID number and was part of the system; his job, his match - he would be tracked down if his responsibilities were abandoned. His life had already been programmed for him.</p><p>Patrick couldn’t do anything about that now; but he could make David breakfast, soak up the time he had left, and let the future be a...future problem.</p><p>Soon, the smells of his cooking began to wake up the apartment, inviting Stevie and David into the kitchen just as they had for Patrick as a small child.</p><p>They walked in, stretching and rubbing their eyes until they noticed the food on the table - piles of french toast with fruit, homemade tortillas with eggs and salsa and beans. David’s eyes went wide with delight - Stevie’s with shock.</p><p>“How many people do you think are joining us?” she asked.</p><p>“Oh, this is just for David.” </p><p>“You didn’t need to do that -” David started, then stopped. “Oh, you’re making a joke.”</p><p>Patrick grinned. </p><p>“I like him,” Stevie laughed as she began to gather dishes.</p><p>“This is really fun for me,” David replied, glaring at Stevie. “You know, analyzing someone’s eating habits isn’t great for their self-esteem. And I don’t eat that much.”</p><p>Patrick stared at him. “David, you ate three quarters of the pancakes yesterday. But I don’t care, I like watching you enjoy things.” And without thinking he took David’s hand and pulled it up to his lips, right there in front of Stevie.</p><p>Her eyes darted to David. “Oh my God, David,” she said, trying to contain her laughter as his eyes narrowed. She turned to the food again.</p><p>“Okay this really is too much. Let’s get the house together for breakfast.”</p><p>*** </p><p>Down in the Safe, Jason and Jennifer were already moving tables together. Soon the plates were passed around and everyone was helping themselves to Patrick’s feast.</p><p>The door nudged open a crack, Angie’s head peeking in.</p><p>“Oooh, it smells so good!” she called at them.</p><p>“Come on in Ange,” David offered.</p><p>“I have lookout!”</p><p>Jennifer turned to David and tilted her head. “Speaking of which, David, I’ve noticed you’ve been skipped in the rotation a couple times recently.” She tossed her long blonde hair over her shoulder, down her back as though to make a point. Patrick felt like she did.</p><p>David ignored her.</p><p>“Angelica, come here!” he asked again. “We’ve left the door before - I know it’s bad form but just come for a quick breakfast.” He looked at Jennifer. “I will take the night shift, okay?”</p><p>Angie slowly crept through the door, then began running in tiny little steps of excitement over to the table.</p><p>The housemates got along so easily, casually sharing how they’d spent their days, smiling and laughing. Patrick stayed quiet, but sat back and watched, pleased that he had some small part in bringing them all together this way. </p><p>“David, are you wearing <em> pajamas</em>?” Jason suddenly asked, leaning back from the table to get a better look.</p><p>“Fuck!” David looked down, a mortified expression taking over.</p><p>“Yeah, David’s been a little distracted lately,” Stevie explained, her maniacal grin appearing.</p><p>“Ohhh,” Jason nodded with a small smile. He pointed his fork at Patrick, then David. “So this is a thing now?”</p><p>Stevie looked at David for a response, grin still firmly in place.</p><p>“Stop!” David snapped. Everyone laughed.</p><p>Patrick truly could not follow what was happening - it seemed in good fun, but David also seemed - uncomfortable?</p><p>Patrick suddenly felt protective, and leaned over to place his hand on David’s back, rubbing it softly in circles. He <em> was </em> tense, and immediately began to relax at Patrick’s touch. He regained his composure.</p><p>“So how are you all enjoying this wonderful meal that Patrick prepared for us?” he asked, the slightest edge to his tone.</p><p>“It’s so, so good!” Angie squealed. Everyone else nodded. “Thank you, Patrick. But where did you get the tortillas? I can’t remember the last time these were in a package.”</p><p>“I made them,” Patrick spoke up for the first time since breakfast. David beamed.</p><p>“Jesus, you <em> made </em> these? Please stay here forever.” Jennifer gushed.</p><p>It was like all the air was sucked out of the room. Patrick looked at David, whose eyes settled down at his food. They hadn’t talked about Patrick leaving; this dark cloud Patrick had felt looming above him - he suddenly realized that from the moment they kissed last night, it was following them both.</p><p>Patrick tried to cut through it with at least a tiny bit of light.</p><p>“You know what, why don’t I show you how? I know how to make loads of stuff.”</p><p>Angie clasped her hands together. “I love that!”</p><p>“You’ve got one student,” Jennifer said as she put her arm around Angie.</p><p>“You should make something for the Roses when they get here,” Jason offered.</p><p>David turned to Stevie, eyes wide. “I totally forgot they were coming.” </p><p>“Wait - they’re coming <em> here</em>? When?” Patrick felt a jolt of anxiety course through him. Would his family be mad he was staying there? Would David be the same with him, with his family around? Should he leave early? He did <em> not </em> like that idea.</p><p>David had his hands over his ears, clearly wrestling with something of his own.</p><p>“Well, isn’t this relationship moving right along. Meeting the parents after -” Stevie looked at her wrist -“five days?”</p><p>“I can leave before they get here -” Patrick started.</p><p>“No, that is not an option.” David looked at him with such intensity, Patrick almost thought it was a dare.</p><p>Jennifer tried to reason with him. “It’ll be fine. I’m sure they’ll be interested in Patrick’s story, and we’ll make them some dinner, drink lots of wine -” </p><p>“I’m not worried about them!” David blurted. “I don’t want to subject Patrick to an evening with those people on his last night!”</p><p>“But he’s already been subjected to me,” Stevie chimed in sweetly. </p><p>“Exactly, that’s plenty.”</p><p>So it wasn’t Patrick David was worried about - he was actually more worried on his behalf. Patrick’s nerves were soothed by the thought. This would be fine.</p><p>Jason got up from the table. “Buck up, champ,” he said, patting David’s shoulder. “I’ve got the rest of your shift Ange.”</p><p>***</p><p>
  <strong>David</strong>
</p><p>True to his word, that night David finally took his turn to watch over the basement door. Patrick had offered to join him, and David wanted nothing more than to keep him close for just a little bit longer; but it was a late shift, and he encouraged him to get some sleep.</p><p>After so many wearisome months of boredom, David was now confronted with almost too many things to occupy his mind. He really was excited to see his family, even if he was nervous about introducing them to Patrick. They were wonderful people that he truly admired in different ways, but they could be...a lot. They weren’t great with boundaries and seemed incapable of filtering their thoughts when they spoke with people, and were bound to say something that would embarrass him.</p><p>Then again, Patrick would be gone the next day. That had always been the plan and David had no idea what would happen to them once he was gone.   </p><p>Something had definitely changed between them last night - not just the kiss, although yes, that kiss. But it was something more - the puzzle pieces had all seemed to find their place, and David could see the whole picture now - he could see how he and Patrick could <em> work</em>. Maybe not the logistics, but as partners - David could see how they fit. Their circumstances were different, but they were both trapped by them; and what each had to offer the other, seemed to be what each of them needed to feel a sense of escape. They were from different worlds, but they complemented one another. He felt like they were both starting something new - they <em> could </em> start something new, together, if given the chance.</p><p>So, David had a lot on his mind. But there was something else, too. Yesterday Patrick had teased him about how he spent his days idling away, and David realized he was right. What was he doing with his life? How long could he use his unfortunate situation as an excuse? </p><p>Before he had time to dig that deep, a light at the end of the hallway disrupted his thoughts. It was Patrick, opening the door to the Safe and walking toward him. By the time he got to David’s chair, the door was closed, and they were both enveloped in the darkness.</p><p>David stood up. “What’s up?”</p><p>“Couldn’t sleep,” Patrick replied. “How’s it going down here?”</p><p>“I think I have something like two more hours to go.”</p><p>“How are you passing the time?"</p><p>"Just thinking," David replied.</p><p>"Mmm."</p><p>David felt Patrick’s hands on his hips, pressing him forward until he was up against the wall. Patrick’s mouth had found his, and then his neck, and this was <em> not </em> the correct procedure for watching the door.</p><p>David spun them around forcefully so Patrick was against the wall instead, and he had a bit more...control. Patrick took that as a sign to keep things going, but David had to stop. He didn’t want to.</p><p>“This has got to be put on hold until my shift is over,” he breathed.</p><p>“Yeah...okay.” Patrick’s voice was shaking a bit. They pulled apart. </p><p>David knew that in a week he would hate himself for this. He stepped back to his chair and sat, feeling around for his flashlight. Patrick slid down the wall until he was sitting on the ground.</p><p>“You’re going to stay?” David asked as he clicked on the light.</p><p>Patrick’s voice was still hoarse. “Yeah, I really couldn’t sleep.”</p><p>They sat for a few minutes coming down from the rush - <em> where had that come from</em>? </p><p>“So here’s a question,” Patrick offered, breaking the silence. “Why do you <em> return </em> the knock? Isn’t that just letting an unwelcome visitor know there’s people hiding in here?”</p><p>“Yeah, I suppose, but it’s unlikely. We maintain a low profile and pay off the right people. But if someone shows up that is...unfriendly, that’s what the gun is for.”</p><p>“Gun?” Patrick repeated skeptically.</p><p>“Sort of the last line of defense?” David explained.</p><p>“Sorry,” Patrick was laughing. “I just don’t see you with a gun.”</p><p>“Rude. We’re all trained.”</p><p>“So am I.” </p><p>“They let you have guns out there?”<br/><br/>“No, of course not. But we can be called up for military service any time. We all have to get a license renewed every year.”</p><p>David felt like he had been punched in the stomach. It was something he had <em> known </em> about life out there, but hadn’t yet made the connection to Patrick - <em> Patrick </em> being forced into some violent conflict, forced to fight in a war. And for what? To maintain this regime that had driven his family into hiding? That killed and disposed of any person that fell out of place in the smallest of ways, or outlived their usefulness? He again felt an urge to tear the whole thing apart, destroy every last vestige of that world out there, to save Patrick.</p><p>But he stayed quiet, and so did Patrick. And when the shift finally ended, they retreated to David's room in the early hours of the morning, eager to distract themselves from all of the unpleasant thoughts that haunted them. </p><p>***</p><p>As the week rolled on, they settled into a comfortable routine - as comfortable as they could be in a house that was regularly patrolled by police who would kill them all if discovered. Patrick continued to tell David all about <em> Into the Wild</em>, which - fine, but no - and David offered him some other books about adventure and finding oneself, silently laughing over what Patrick would possibly make of <em> Eat, Pray, Love</em>. </p><p>Patrick would cook, sometimes for the house, or just the trio in their apartment -<em>no</em>, David and Stevie’s apartment - and sometimes just for David. He could tell how much Patrick enjoyed it; not just the task of designing and preparing these meals, but the opportunity to connect with these people from a different world, a common language of joy and gratitude and pleasure they could all recognize and share around a table.</p><p>David hadn’t been sure if this week was providing the answers to Patrick’s questions like he had hoped. But Patrick was clearly getting something out of the experience, happily spending every minute possible glued to David’s side, listening contentedly to the housemates’ conversations, joking around with Stevie, often at David’s expense.</p><p>Every now and then he had a question about the history - when did things change? And what did their parents actually do? David was embarrassed at his inability to explain a lot of this, and was grateful his parents would be there soon with better answers.</p><p>***</p><p>One morning David’s thoughts got the better of him as he and Patrick lay in bed waking up. All he wanted to do was ask Patrick what would happen when he left at the end of the week. Would he ever come back? Was there a way to safely stay in touch? David knew the answer to that was no - but would they try?</p><p>Instead, he asked something else.</p><p>“Are you matched?” David didn’t look at him, eyes focused on the ceiling.</p><p>“I am. Rachel. Matched since we were kids.” David peeked over as Patrick smiled fondly, and David felt a jealous knot tighten in his stomach.</p><p>“That’s…sweet,” he offered, but he couldn’t sound sincere if he tried.</p><p>Patrick didn’t move, but his eyes looked over at David. “It’s not romantic, David. You know most matches aren’t like that. It’s more…practical. It’s something you just do, part of life - like going to school or starting a job.”</p><p>“But you like her?” David knew he shouldn’t press this, but he kept going.</p><p>“I’m lucky in that, yeah. Our parents were always friends and thought it would be a good fit, keep our families close. So they applied early and the government approved.” </p><p>Even though David knew this was how it worked, it bothered him.</p><p>“So you would just be partnered with this person forever, because your parents set it up for you?”</p><p>“David, it could be a lot worse. The government could have matched me with anyone.”</p><p>“Not me,” David countered.</p><p>“No, not you,” Patrick agreed quietly.</p><p>David wanted to ask, <em> And what now?  Are you still following through with this match? </em> and perhaps more desperately, <em> What about me? </em> But he held back, because that was too much, and he had been too much before, and even if this was a very <em> unique </em> situation, his old habits still lingered.</p><p>And as the quiet settled over them, Patrick rolled over and kissed David, gentle but with purpose, and it was not quite an answer to David’s questions, but maybe an offering of hope.</p><p>***</p><p>
  <strong>Patrick</strong>
</p><p>They were nearing the end of the week. Patrick had become so comfortable in his routine - he couldn’t believe how easily he had fallen into this new life. What would it be like when he left? He kept pushing the thought aside.</p><p>After his shower one afternoon, Patrick stepped into David’s room to find him sitting on the ground, cross-legged. An assortment of pictures were arranged on the floor in front of him, all different sizes and styles of art and photography. He moved them around, studying each configuration thoughtfully as he bit his lip. Patrick smiled.</p><p>“What are you up to?”</p><p>David looked up, startled. “Oh, redecorating I guess? I collect them. I was thinking of swapping some of the art on my wall to change it up.”</p><p>It was such a foreign idea to Patrick; art, decoration, the significance of an aesthetic. It was very clearly important to David, though, in how he dressed and designed his little living space. Patrick lay down on the bed, rolling onto his side to watch David work.</p><p>He had cleared a patch of space on his wall to the left of the window. After spending more time reorganizing things on the floor, he began adding frames, mostly wooden frames that looked a bit worn. Again, he moved things around, playing with different pairings between prints and frames, until he seemed satisfied.</p><p>“Can you tell me if these look straight?” He asked Patrick as he began hanging things up, one by one. Patrick dutifully moved across the room, sitting in a chair as David looked at him for confirmation. He loved watching him; David had some sort of skill here, something Patrick was never exposed to in his other life, and for some reason it filled him with a sense of pride.</p><p>Patrick watched as it came together; he had never really looked at what David pinned to his wall, but he thought he could see the vision that David had now. Everything he put up made Patrick feel something - some sense of rebirth, or renewal. One old color photograph, one of the largest pieces, was of tiny flowers growing on tree branches. He thought they might be cherry blossoms. A photograph of a bird’s nest holding tiny blue eggs. A painting of a man and woman, strolling arm in arm through a park in the sunshine. And many, many more photos of people. Small photos in color and some in black and white; people modeling by waterfalls, posing with their young children, ceremonies with women in white gowns. Patrick didn’t know what a lot of it was - but he could <em> feel </em> it, and it struck him that this was some reflection of whatever David was feeling right now.</p><p>“You’re...really good at that,” he said softly, studying the final results.</p><p>David looked at him with his small smile, lips pursed to the side. “It’s nothing. I just like to change it up every now and then. Sometimes I find things pressed in books or hidden around the house or in packages we get with supplies.” He shrugged, assessing his work. “It’s nothing,” he repeated.</p><p>“I don’t know - I think it’s something. It just looks - beautiful. Your whole ‘new beginnings’ theme.” David’s eyes shot up to look at him, like he had been caught. “And to take all these different images and sort of, tell a story? Where did you even come up with this?”</p><p>David exhaled an unsteady breath. “I’m not sure...I think it’s maybe - having you here.” His voice was small, and he wouldn’t look at Patrick. </p><p>And Patrick froze, because he could see how it could feel that way; he felt it too. But Patrick didn’t know what would happen next - this could be a beginning or it could be an end. He wanted to reach out to David, wrap him in his arms and tell him, <em> Yes, I’m with you and let’s make this work, let’s start something new, together</em>. But it would be a lie, because he couldn’t be sure what would happen in two days when he stepped outside, back in his grey suit and cap, returning to his old life.</p><p>But Patrick sensed that admission was difficult for David to share, so he walked over and took his hand. “Let’s go have a drink.” David’s smile was somewhere between sad and pleased as Patrick led him out of the room.</p><p>***</p><p>Within an hour Patrick had probably had one too many glasses of wine, but he felt good. The housemates had gathered in the Safe and there was a proper party happening, everyone loose and laughing. Angie and Jennifer were entwined on the couch, and David had pulled Patrick onto his lap. Jason stood before them, pointing wildly at things in the room and looking exasperated. </p><p>They had been playing a game called <em> charades</em>, which was virtually impossible for Patrick who shared so few references with everyone. But that only seemed to make everyone laugh more.</p><p>He didn’t want the night to end. The Roses were coming the next day, and who could say what that would be like? And the next day, he would be gone.</p><p>Suddenly Stevie opened the door.</p><p>“Hey you drunks! I need some help. We just got a delivery.”</p><p>Everyone stumbled through the door, bumping into one another in the dark hallway while laughing and falling over each other.</p><p>“Jesus are you even going to be able to carry this stuff?” Stevie asked, but no one answered. Patrick felt his way to a stack of boxes, lifting up two of them. They weren’t too heavy, but he was unsteady.</p><p>Once everyone was back in the Safe, they dumped the boxes, breathing heavily as though each had run a mile, the tiny chokes of laughter just dying out. Stevie walked gingerly towards a box and began pulling out the contents.</p><p>“Canned green beans. Yum.” She tossed the can back.</p><p>And then Patrick’s eyes began to focus.</p><p>“Where did these come from?”</p><p>Stevie eyed him curiously. “No idea. We get deliveries like this every now and then through our contacts. Not quite the fresh stuff but it’s always good to have around.”</p><p>And then, out of nowhere, another laugh burst from Patrick. It was loud, unexpected, and he couldn’t hold it back. Somewhere in the fog of his brain he knew everyone was probably staring at him in either worry or confusion or both, but he couldn't stop laughing. <em> What the hell was going on? </em> The food his mother had been hoarding in his childhood closet had somehow followed him here.</p><p> </p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. This One Will Bring You Love</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I really appreciated the kind comments on the previous chapter!  Thanks for reading!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <b>Patrick</b>
</p><p>“Hey,” David greeted Patrick sleepily as he walked into the kitchen, fumbling through the cabinets to make coffee.</p><p>“Good evening,” Patrick replied. David shot him a death stare he usually saved for Stevie. </p><p>“Sorry David, I just assumed you wouldn’t sleep past noon on my last day here.” </p><p>David turned to face him, face pained - the joke didn’t land. Patrick tried to recover it, standing up and wrapping his arms around him.</p><p>“I’m kidding, I’m kidding.”</p><p>David relaxed and spoke muffled into Patrick’s shoulder. “We were up late, it was a long night.”</p><p>“I know, it wasn’t a good joke. But hey, we have all day...and all night.”</p><p>David lifted his head to smirk at him. “I’ve created a monster.”</p><p>Okay, they were back. Patrick couldn’t stand to see David so sad again, at least not until their goodbyes the next morning. </p><p>“So, any more thoughts on the boxes?” David asked.</p><p>Patrick thought about it - really he had been thinking about it all morning. He couldn’t make sense of what had happened. When he found the boxes at his parents’ house, it didn’t seem like his father knew about them. And if he did find them, how would they have ended up here? His mother had been somehow involved with the resistance, but that was over thirty years ago. And she was gone now.</p><p>“Not really,” he replied. “I mean, it’s not a coincidence, right?”</p><p>David shrugged. “That seems unlikely.”</p><p>Patrick just nodded. The thought of bringing any of this up with his father terrified him. Another worry to put aside for later.</p><p>***</p><p>The Roses arrived in the early evening, just as darkness had fallen over the town. Patrick waited nervously in the Safe as Stevie and David helped to intercept them at the basement door. As he wondered about the safety of the logistics, the door burst open with an explosion of energy.</p><p>“Ok David, now put your mother’s suitcases over there in the corner,” Mr. Rose directed as David followed in behind him, dragging two oversized black suitcases. </p><p>“How is this being discreet?” David huffed in annoyance. Mr. Rose ignored him, standing straight in a well-tailored blue suit.</p><p>“And Stevie, you can put those bags over there with her other ones, go ahead and follow David. There you go.” Stevie tossed them in a pile. </p><p>“Stevie, dear, be <em> gentle </em> with those!” Mrs. Rose glided in next, even more baggage in tow, donning a long black leather dress, a gold blazer, and elaborate jewels around her arms and neck. She was a sight to behold.</p><p>Patrick stood up. “Can I grab anything?”</p><p>Mrs. Rose stopped in her tracks and eyed him appraisingly. “Well, aren’t you the helpful boy scout,” she replied, sharply enunciating each syllable. He shrugged.</p><p>“This must be David’s <em> visitor</em>!” he heard someone murmur, as a beautiful woman with long golden waves of hair, who could only be Alexis, appeared through the doorway. Her shoulders rose up to her ears as she smiled and walked towards him, like she was about to pet a puppy.</p><p>Alexis embraced him in a light hug, then looked over at David and gave him a sorry excuse for a wink.</p><p>David flailed his arms like he wanted to move past these introductions as quickly as possible. “<em>Yes</em>, everyone, this is Patrick, the visitor I mentioned.” </p><p>“It’s nice to meet you all,” Patrick offered, nodding as he tried to make eye contact with each of them.</p><p>“Well, hello, Patrick!” Mr. Rose greeted him brightly, thick eyebrows rising to the top of his face. “And what safe house did you come from? Not easy to move around these days.” </p><p>Patrick froze and looked over at David and Stevie, unsure what to say.</p><p>“Patrick’s a robot!” Stevie responded, that goddamn devious smile of hers appearing again. She sure loved to stir things up.</p><p>After the frantic activity of their arrival, the Roses had gone silent. Mrs. Rose straightened up a bit and looked him up and down again. “Well, I believe there must be a story here.” She looked over at David. “We’ll go freshen up before we hear the tale of these star-crossed lovers.” </p><p>The three Roses left the Safe, leaving behind their piles of bags, to head up to David and Stevie’s apartment. David looked at him sympathetically. “It’s fine, just wait here.” He followed them out and Patrick turned to Stevie.</p><p>“Was that bad?”</p><p>“Well it wasn’t good,” she replied. “Hope you have a stellar dinner planned to win them over.”</p><p>“You know, your broadcast that I was a ‘robot’ was maybe not the best way to handle that.”</p><p>“Patrick Brewer, are you angry with me?” she asked teasingly. And yeah, he kind of was.</p><p>“It will be <em> fine</em>. They’ll hear the story and see the pictures you brought and I’m sure they’ll be convinced that you’re trustworthy and all that.” She paused. “Unlike in your world, our first instinct isn’t to kill someone who's different.”</p><p>And that stung, because he thought he had convinced her that not everyone out there was as ruthless as the government and police.</p><p>As though she could read his mind, she backtracked, but only a bit. “Look I know <em> you’re </em> not like that, but my point is we let people be different, and down here, you’re more than a little different. It’s just about figuring out your place in all of this.” She waved a hand across the room.</p><p>He felt a little better, but not much, and pressed his lips together tightly as he gave her a short nod and walked off to sit on the couch.</p><p>“<em>Patrickkk</em>,” she whined and trailed behind him. “Don’t get mad. I’m just trying to explain. And really, I can’t deal with your boyfriend thinking I pissed you off.”</p><p><em> Boyfriend</em>. Patrick had come across some of these labels in the reading he had been doing over the week; he was just starting to get a sense for how they worked. He liked it.</p><p>“It’s fine,” he said and gave her a small but reassuring smile. Truth be told he was sad to be leaving Stevie, too. He shared her sense of humor, and she had really dragged it out of him this week. And he could see how much she loved David, and he really loved that about her too.</p><p>The Roses returned shortly after.</p><p>Mrs. Rose perched herself at a table and everyone followed suit, David and Alexis quickly grabbing the wine and glasses.</p><p>“So, Peter, our David tells us you have some intriguing information to disclose.”</p><p>“It’s <em> Patrick</em>,” David interjected sharply. </p><p>“Patrick, please go ahead,” Mr. Rose coaxed.</p><p>He took a deep breath and recited the whole story, from the food boxes and first aid kit to tracking down the house, to the strange arrival of the food last night. </p><p>“What did you say your mother’s name was, again?” Mr. Rose asked, eyebrows pressed together in thought. </p><p>“Marcy,” Patrick replied, the name catching in his throat. He didn’t know if he had even said her name since she died.</p><p>Mrs. Rose looked pensive. “There was a Marcy...we were never acquainted.”  Mr. Rose nodded, still thinking.</p><p>Patrick had been prepared for this conversation - he pulled the photo of his mother from his pocket and handed it to the Roses. </p><p>“Yes, yes,” Mr. Rose said as the memories seemed to come back. “I remember the face.”</p><p>“This young woman was a friend of the Budds,” Mrs. Rose said simply. Patrick and Stevie exchanged glances. “She disappeared shortly after…” Her words trailed off, but everyone knew.</p><p>“How long was she around?” Patrick asked.</p><p>“It’s hard to say, dear. During those days we moved more easily throughout the underground. Never in one place very long. We were busy trying to recruit more people, especially those in government jobs. Yes, we moved all around the continent, back when I was in high demand to perform at various functions and soirees - ”</p><p>“Moira, let’s stay on track,” Mr. Rose cut in. </p><p>Patrick was a little disappointed. He had hoped the Roses would know more about his mother’s involvement, that they could provide more answers. </p><p>“How did it all start?” He blurted, more desperate and eager than he meant to.</p><p>“That is a story that demands more wine,” Mrs. Rose replied.</p><p>“And food!” Mr. Rose added, rubbing his hands together. “I smelled something good up in the kitchen.”</p><p>“Patrick is a great cook,” David told them, standing up behind Patrick and squeezing his shoulders.</p><p>“Ohh, then he’s perfect for <em> you</em>, David,” Alexis teased, earning a scowl in return from her brother.</p><p>In no time the rest of the housemates had joined them, gathered dishes and poured more wine, clapping as Patrick and David came through the door with two huge trays of lasagna.</p><p>They drank and ate and laughed; Patrick heard some endearing stories about David, Stevie, and Alexis as children, and less endearing ones from their teen years. It occurred to Patrick that Stevie really was one of them; her parents had been killed when she was just an infant. </p><p>And they shared many, many fond memories from the year they were forced into hiding together, just the five of them - when they truly became a family, no longer constantly on the move and living their separate lives.</p><p>Jason, Angie, and Jen would chime in every now and then; they too were children of the resistance, and their paths had crossed with the Roses periodically throughout their lives. Patrick remained the odd one out, but he didn’t mind - he again relaxed into his role on the sidelines, listening and learning, soaking up whatever he could until he had to shift back into his other life.</p><p>He found himself watching the Roses, and the warm thing in his chest started to expand as he noticed little glimpses of David in all of them. Mr. Rose was quite clearly his father in appearance alone, but he also had a protective instinct for his family; Patrick felt that from David every day. Alexis shared all of his mannerisms and expressions, as well as his strange blend of teasing-insults that really meant love. </p><p>And Mrs. Rose - she commanded the room with her presence, her insistence on attracting attention through her whole <em> look</em>; she crafted a personal aesthetic much like David did. And he could see clear as day that she was guarded, but she cared deeply.</p><p>Despite all his nerves and the awkward introductions, Patrick was filled with gratitude that he got to meet these people who had been so formative in making David who he was.</p><p>As the plates emptied and more drinks were poured, Mrs. Rose offered Patrick a somewhat sad expression. “Well, shall we undo all of those lies and manipulations they’ve imparted on you?”</p><p>Patrick swallowed. “Yes, please.”</p><p>The story shared went something like this:</p><p>
  <em> Long before Patrick was born, and even before Mr. and Mrs. Rose were born, when their own parents were children, the country he had known his whole life was a completely different place. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> There were different countries, and different leaders, cultures, histories. The governments of the time did not hold the same power as they did now - people were free, and had agency. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> It was not perfect. It was a constant battle for the people to keep their leaders honest, and despite their freedom, not everyone was really free. There were still grave inequalities and injustices, but it was at least somewhat easier and safer to fight. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> But the fighting hadn’t been enough, and not enough people had put in the time and effort, and slowly the leaders gathered more and more power; the people had assumed it would be fine, they trusted that nothing would change. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> And yet it did change, as war broke out briefly between the neighboring countries, and a victorious regime emerged. It had swiftly implemented harsh laws and punishments, extended its reach into people’s everyday lives to maintain power and control. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> The resistance at the outset was fierce, but so was the retaliation. People across the country were faced with the painful dilemma of falling in line, or risking their lives to avoid it. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> At first those who chose to remain free lived between both worlds. They were hassled, isolated, and ridiculed. Soon it turned into arrests and violence. And as identification numbers were assigned, and the history books rewritten, the evidence of the old world slowly smoldered into memories that would only be preserved by those who chose to do so. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> A world that had once been so linked through ever-advancing technology soon found its connections cut off, as the government limited access to such tools, eventually raising generations that did not even know what they had lost. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> And as the resistance was forced further and further underground, it became a mission to keep the memories of before alive, preserve anything, especially the books that were otherwise destroyed by the government and its loyal followers. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> An entire community, connected only through paper mail and trusted messages, sprawled across the continent and provided one another with both intelligence and support. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> And by the time Johnny and Moira Rose came of age, a spark was lit, and they fought back in their own ways, desperately trying to recruit people to their side, get access to government information, and sabotage any part of the machine’s workings that they could. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Almost everyone who descended from the original resistance came from wealth - it had enabled them to abandon their lives in the first place. And that wealth continued to mean something as the old currency shifted from money to other assets and favors - it all still worked to their advantage. But they welcomed anyone new to their cause. The efforts at resistance became fewer as the government cracked down, but more people joining them always counted as a win.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> And they raised families and taught them about how things were and about how they could be, and did what they could to keep them safe while also fulfilled and true to themselves.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> But as the government presence grew, the patrolling police became a regular sight down most streets. And the safe roads were no longer as safe, and there was a palpable feeling that the movement was paralyzed. So they did all they could do - they kept on living and celebrating moments of joy when they appeared. </em>
</p><p>“And tonight, I do believe, is one of those moments.” Mrs. Rose gave a sad smile, but perhaps the first smile Patrick had seen on her since they arrived.</p><p>Patrick’s world had been turned upside-down the minute he knocked on the basement door a week ago; learning about his mother, the underground, and finding David. He had been reading books that were written in another place and time that revealed a history at odds with what he knew, but this - it shook him deeply.</p><p>The manipulation, it suddenly felt so personal. He felt toyed with and used; he had been doing his part his whole life, but for what?</p><p>He looked up and caught David’s eyes and reached out to him, and David shifted his chair to move closer.</p><p>“How am I supposed to go back out there?” Patrick asked, voice cracking. No one spoke, and David just wrapped his arms around him, resting his chin on Patrick’s head as he leaned in close.</p><p>Finally, Angie broke them out of the somber moment. “Oh! There’s dessert! Patrick helped me bake a cake!”</p><p>“Oh my God, <em> yes</em>,” David’s head shot up. Everyone laughed, and the rest of the night was salvaged by laughter, cake, wine, and family, all of them taking part in a tiny act of defiance.</p><p>***</p><p>Patrick and David had settled comfortably on the couch, David tucked under Patrick’s arm draped across his shoulders. Patrick’s other hand reached across his lap, holding David’s hand, absentmindedly running his thumb across his knuckles. The Roses were putting on a bit of a show, telling tales of close calls that were probably quite scary at the time but certainly made for great stories now.</p><p>“And wouldn’t you know, my disguise worked! My children may chastise me for lugging my girls around, but they have never let me down.”</p><p>“Girls?” Patrick asked David quietly.</p><p>“Uh, yeah. Two of those suitcases are full of her wigs.”</p><p>Patrick felt his eyes go wide. In an effort to suppress his shock that Mrs. Rose had risked her life to cart around bags of wigs, he looked around the room - and awkwardly locked eyes with Alexis, who had apparently been staring at him by the bar. He disentangled from David and walked over.</p><p>“Everything okay?” He asked.</p><p>She gave a tiny sideways smile, one he knew well from David. “Yes, all good.”</p><p>Patrick nodded, but thought she had more on her mind. He poured a drink. Alexis leaned in close to him, voice quieter.</p><p>“I can’t remember him ever looking this happy.”</p><p>Patrick took a large sip of wine, overwhelmed but not sure what to say. He kept listening.</p><p>“Usually I have to have a few talks with him when he’s seeing someone. He overthinks things, you know?”</p><p>Patrick nodded.</p><p>“He’s usually looking for some kind of help so he doesn’t screw things up. He doesn’t seem to need that at all, with you.”</p><p>Patrick tried to remember what David had told him about his past in this area - it wasn’t much. He had said he had many romantic relationships, and for the life of him Patrick could not understand how or why they ended. In a world where you could freely partner with whomever you choose, and shape that partnership into whatever felt right - who would have been with David and then given it up?</p><p>“Why didn’t it work out with anyone else?” He asked.</p><p>“Oof, that’s a loaded question,” she responded, leaning back a bit and starting to play with her hair. “I mean, he can be a bit much.”</p><p>“That’s not true,” Patrick said, body tensing in defense. He wasn’t arguing; he was stating a fact. </p><p>A grin spread across Alexis’ face. “You <em> do </em> like him,” she cooed, and poked the tip of his nose with her finger. “I’m not trying to blame him. I mean, he <em> is </em> a lot, but he’s mostly been in relationships with bad people that treated him - they weren’t good to him.” She nodded to herself as the smile faded.</p><p>Patrick felt the blood drain from his face. His stomach churned. He was already tormented knowing that he would be leaving David the next day, but now, there was this. The thought of anyone being cruel to David - he couldn’t even linger on the thought...but what did they do to him? How did they hurt him? <em> Stop. </em></p><p>But wasn’t he about to do just that? They had started building this warm and joyful thing together, and Patrick had to abandon it, abandon David. He ran his hand through his hair, looking down at the floor.</p><p>And then Alexis popped a finger under his chin, tilting his head up a bit to look at her. Without a shred of hesitation, she pulled him back to the present. “Hey - it’s only over when you say it’s over.” She smiled and then twisted her body to face the room, sipping her drink, eyes bright and sparkling as though she hadn’t just dug deep into the core of Patrick’s heart, planting a most desperately needed seed of hope.</p><p>Jason joined them then. “Alexis! It’s been a while. You look great.”</p><p>She flipped her long waves over her shoulder and smiled. “I know, right?”</p><p>Jason laughed, a bit harder than seemed necessary as far as Patrick was concerned.</p><p>“Hey, if you need a break from your family, you’re welcome to hang out in our apartment. I could get some music on - “</p><p>She cut him off. “Oh that’s so nice! But no, I’m not going to do that.” Despite the clear rejection, she kept her tone sweet and steady, refocusing her attention on Patrick. Jason gave a small laugh, shook his head, then sauntered off.</p><p>David appeared behind Patrick, gripping his shoulders in that way that had become so familiar. Patrick leaned back a little into his chest.</p><p>“I’m tired,” he breathed, and regretted it immediately. He didn’t want to go to sleep and lose more time, but now David would insist.</p><p>“Let’s go,” David replied, and they said their goodnights and retreated to David’s room.</p><p>They were both bone-tired and emotionally wrecked as they braced themselves for the morning ahead. But they forced themselves to stay awake all night, and kept each other occupied with their bodies and their conversation, their tears and laughter.</p><p>Patrick wanted to leave before the sun came up, so in the early hours of the morning, they willed themselves out of bed.</p><p>***</p><p>Patrick stood in front of the bathroom mirror, smoothing one hand down the front of his suit jacket.</p><p>He would soon be outside, walking through the streets of town, passing others wearing the same suit once again. The uniform of the Citizen.</p><p><em> It’s not a uniform</em>, he thought. <em> It’s a costume</em>. He wasn’t going back to his old life - he was preparing to play a role.</p><p>He crept around the dark apartment quietly. Alexis had been sharing a room with Stevie, and the Roses slept on the pullout couch. He wished he could look around the place one last time, but he didn’t want to wake anyone, so he descended down the stairs to meet David in the Safe.</p><p>When he walked in, the whole house was there, ready to see him off. It took every last drop of strength he had left in him to keep from crying right then and there.</p><p>The housemates and Alexis all wished him well, hugging him goodbye, Stevie extra tightly; Mrs. Rose gently patted his shoulder, Mr. Rose shook his hand. Patrick felt grateful that David would have so many good friends and family to lean on when he left.</p><p>And then the two of them walked down the hallway, to the basement door where they had first met, terrified and suspicious of each other, just a week before.<em> Had it really only been a week? </em>He felt like he’d known David for a lifetime by now.</p><p>They stood together quietly for a few minutes.</p><p>“I’ll be honest, I’m worried about you. Are you sure you’ll be safe out there?” David asked.</p><p>“At this point, I’ll be safer out there than if I stay.”</p><p>David wrapped his arms around him. “Do what you have to. Just protect yourself, okay?” His voice broke, and Patrick started losing his resolve.</p><p>Patrick would be fine, he felt like he could fake it out there for a while, at least. But he worried about David.</p><p>“David, please just promise me you won’t sleep away your days. If you’re stuck here, make it the place you want it to be. I’ve seen what you can do. You can make it beautiful.” </p><p>David tried to choke back the tears, but they flowed freely, so he just nodded.</p><p>Patrick stood up straight, and grabbed David’s face in both hands, holding him in place until he was looking at him. </p><p>“This isn’t over until we say it’s over,” he told him, echoing Alexis’ words.</p><p>And he pulled him in for one last kiss, deep and a beat too long, but not long enough. He spun around quickly so not to see David’s tears again, pulled his cap tightly onto his head, opened the door to the alley, and stepped into the cool, early morning air. He put one foot in front of the other, briskly walking home, trying so hard to keep his feet anchored to the ground with each step, the rest of him untethered and floating away.</p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. Side Effects They Don't Advertise</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <b>David</b>
</p>
<p>David gave himself one day.</p>
<p>After Patrick left, David remained at the door and took a shift; a small voice in his brain kept telling him Patrick might come back. He didn’t.</p>
<p>Stevie finally came down to relieve him, passing him off to Alexis so she could put him to bed. He was running on very little sleep, and quickly nodded off after Alexis made sure he was comfortable.</p>
<p>He woke up later that day, alone in his bed, and the reality set in. Patrick was gone, and he was alone <em> out there</em>. Patrick was gone, and could be in danger. Patrick was gone, and David might never see him again. </p>
<p>At first he tried to argue it all away: <em> You’ve known this man for one week. Did you even really know him? It was a nice change of pace, but nothing more. It was a week. It will pass. </em></p>
<p>But the longer he sat with that, he knew it didn’t ring true. There had been something there, something real, even if it was just starting. Patrick had <em> liked </em> him, he <em> wanted </em> him, he had taken care with him, admired and complimented him, supported him, even challenged him - and treated him right. It was just a week, but <em> they </em> had happened.</p>
<p>So David allowed himself to feel the sadness that he had tried to fight back. He gave himself one day to cry, to wallow in the darkness of his room, to let his family dote over him. He let himself feel his grief and fears as fully as he could. And he replayed his favorite moments over and over in his mind, determined to keep them vivid.</p>
<p>
  <em> This isn’t over until we say it’s over. </em>
</p>
<p>It could have meant so many things. It was not a goodbye - the police, the law, the government - they might be keeping them apart, for now; but at least they both knew that if not for those very real obstacles, they <em> would </em> be together.</p>
<p>And it didn’t all have to end, just because Patrick had left, did it? His brief stay had jolted David awake from months, maybe years, of melancholy. There was a bit more joy, warmth, and hope in his little world, and maybe that part didn’t have to be over either.</p>
<p>David gave himself one day and then he slept through the night.</p>
<p>The next morning, he did two things that were very new for David Rose: he woke up before the rest of the house, and he made his family breakfast.</p>
<p>***</p>
<p>
  <b>Patrick</b>
</p>
<p>When Patrick finally made it back to his apartment, he realized it may have been a mistake to stay away for so long. Three yellow notes sat on the counter. They were inspection notices. Random inspections happened every now and then; but the authorities had returned twice. All three notes included the same unsettling observation: TENANT NOT PRESENT.</p>
<p>Patrick gathered the notes and threw them into a kitchen drawer. It was never, ever good to be on the government’s radar. He was so tired though, so emotionally and physically drained, that all he could do was shower and collapse on his bed, avoiding all of the worry and pain he would have to confront later.</p>
<p>***</p>
<p>He awoke with a throbbing headache, which only deepened with the sudden reminders that he was not in David’s bed, that the government was snooping around his apartment, that he needed to talk to his father, and that he had to return to work that very morning.</p>
<p>Patrick did his best to recreate his old routine: he put on a clean suit, walked by the schoolyard, picked up a tea. And though the muscle memory kept him moving, and the familiar faces and landmarks encouraged him that he was on the right track, something just felt <em> wrong</em>. Now that he knew more of the history, the entire premise of this world just seemed flimsy. Patrick felt like he could step up to any one of the buildings along his route, tap it with a single finger, and watch it fall apart, flutter to the ground as though made of paper.</p>
<p>He arrived at his office on time. He had been gone for two weeks, but no one said anything to him. No condolences or questions, just terse nods; all business. He turned on his computer. As he waited and sipped his tea, Rachel appeared from around the corner.</p>
<p>Unlike the rest of his coworkers, Rachel’s expression was sympathetic. He had missed her. In fact, he had to resist the urge to get up and hug her - after a week at the house with David, this had felt like the normal thing to do. It wasn’t.</p>
<p>“Dare I ask how you are?” She asked cautiously.</p>
<p>Patrick smiled, hopefully reassuring her that he was okay. “It’s fine.”</p>
<p>“How’s your father?”  </p>
<p>“I - he’s dealing with it. Still working things out.” Patrick was suddenly embarrassed that he hadn’t spoken to his father in a whole week. He really <em> didn’t </em> know how he was doing.</p>
<p>“Well, you didn’t miss much here,” Rachel offered, looking around the office. “Lunch has been lonely.”</p>
<p>“Sorry about that,” he replied. He meant it.</p>
<p>Rachel smiled and tapped the side of her cap. “No time for a haircut while you were off?”</p>
<p>Patrick felt his face heat up, just slightly, as he touched the hair sticking out around his ears from beneath his cap. He took it off and ran a hand through, trying to wrangle the curls. He realized this was a mistake, and put the cap back on quickly, hoping Rachel didn't notice.</p>
<p>He had wanted to cut it and knew that he should, but David had liked his hair.</p>
<p>“I’ll get to it,” he said, but he wasn’t actually sure that he would.</p>
<p>She looked at him curiously. There was no judgement there - but he knew she could tell something was off.</p>
<p>Patrick suddenly wanted to tell Rachel everything - the house, the underground, the Roses, David - especially David. It struck him that this was going to be terribly difficult to keep to himself. These were secrets so big, how could he contain them?</p>
<p>Luckily, she stopped him from saying more than he should.</p>
<p>“Well, I won’t keep you from work,” she smiled. “Welcome back, Patrick.”</p>
<p>He cleared his throat uncomfortably. “Thank you. It’s good to be back.”</p>
<p>***</p>
<p>
  <b>David</b>
</p>
<p>Things were different in the house for many reasons, not the least of which being that David was now sharing his tiny apartment with three additional people. </p>
<p>Stevie spent her days in her usual way - checking in with all the housemates, reading, and needling David (though more gently as of late). Alexis spent a lot of her time on herself - exercise, leisurely meals, and long baths. She had slowed her hectic lifestyle, and David thought the change seemed like a good one for her.</p>
<p>His parents, on the other hand, were constantly busy. They spent most of their time sorting through various ends of correspondences. They wrote letter after letter, and received mail nearly every day, to the point where David worried it would draw too much attention to the house.</p>
<p>One morning, David sat in the living room with his coffee, watching his parents sort through papers together at the kitchen table. They looked relaxed as they ate toast and sipped on their own coffees; it looked like a well-worn routine. David began to think about past years when he had lived with his parents for extended periods of time. He had been so wrapped up in his own life, often the drama and pain of his past relationships, that he never paid much attention to their affairs.</p>
<p>With a new sense of clarity, he saw what this was. His parents had spent much of their lives traveling the continent, meeting and working with others living off the grid. And with each contact, they had gathered another pulse point to monitor the current state of affairs. The letters passed back and forth were little intelligence briefings, shared to keep everyone aware of new changes and threats they encountered. This was one of the many ways they had survived. And they were still doing it, in constant contact with people, to stay informed and keep the family safe.</p>
<p>His parents were carrying an enormous load of work here, just so he could lounge around drinking wine.</p>
<p>He stood up. “Can I help you?”</p>
<p>They exchanged surprised glances.</p>
<p>“No, that’s okay son,” his father replied carefully. “I know it’s been a difficult couple of days for you.”</p>
<p>“Yes, dear, I can only imagine the heartbreak of losing your beau, no one would fault you for brooding around the house a bit longer.”</p>
<p>“Okay, that’s a bit much,” David responded defensively. “I’ll have you know this is the healthiest end to a relationship I’ve ever had.”</p>
<p>His mother gave him a pitying look that he hoped to never see again, but his father gently patted her arm.</p>
<p>“Well Moira, if he wants to help, let’s show him how it’s done.”</p>
<p>David sat down at the table. “Thank you,” he replied, a bit too harshly.</p>
<p>“Now David,” his father began, “the most helpful contribution here would be if you had contacts in places that we don’t.”</p>
<p>He pulled out a folded piece of paper, slowly spreading it out until a large, frayed map of North America lay flat across the table. David examined tiny X marks scattered across the map, as well as faded markings that had been erased, presumably as these contacts moved around.</p>
<p>David thought about the people he knew, past and present. A few names came to mind whose addresses he had. He looked closely at the map again. He pointed to a few areas that weren’t marked. </p>
<p>“I could probably get in touch with Jake. And Sebastien.” He winced.</p>
<p>“No one is making you do this, son. But if you do, you can keep it simple. We just want to know what they are seeing. Police presence, implementation of new laws, and any stirrings of resistance underground.”</p>
<p>“Oh, and tell Sebastien about Patrick to make him jealous!” Alexis offered as she wandered into the living room.</p>
<p>“There’s nothing to be jealous of!” David shot back. But he couldn’t help smiling at the thought.</p>
<p>***</p>
<p>
  <b>Patrick</b>
</p>
<p>Patrick felt some relief having returned to his job. He reconnected with the business owners and building managers that he worked with, reviewed deadlines, scheduled inspections. There were even a few new locations added to his list, so he got to introduce himself to some new people and hear about their work.</p>
<p>It was familiar and comforting and made him feel grounded and competent again.</p>
<p>That is, until after lunch.</p>
<p>Patrick and Rachel had met in a break room, eating mediocre sandwiches purchased at a shop in the building, as Rachel caught him up on her life from the past two weeks. He listened to her talk about her hovering parents, updates on the lives of her friends, and the ups and downs of work in her own department. </p>
<p>“Security monitoring keeps getting more complicated,” she confessed. “They just keep expanding patrols and checkpoints. I guess it’s good to be safe, but really I could use some more hands on deck.”</p>
<p>Rachel’s department was a massive operation; her role was to monitor the locations and staffing of security in her assigned region, making sure there were enough trained police stationed at locations based on government requirements. It was much more sensitive than Patrick’s work.</p>
<p>“I have noticed a lot more police around,” he offered.</p>
<p>Patrick was glad to be in her company again, but something about the conversation made him feel...sad. He missed the vibrant and colorful exchanges with David and Stevie and the other housemates. He missed learning new things, and talking freely and openly. Rachel was so sweet and sincere, but it seemed dull now - he was bored. </p>
<p>Patrick felt awful for thinking it, because it wasn’t her fault. This was all she knew. This was all he knew, until recently.</p>
<p>But he smiled and listened and finished his lunch as they agreed to leave the building together at the end of the day.</p>
<p>Before Patrick could make his way back to his desk, though, a message blared through the office speakers.</p>
<p>“<em>Brewer, Patrick. Report to your assigned manager.</em>”</p>
<p>Patrick’s stomach sank. <em> Shit</em>.</p>
<p>His manager was a man called Mr. Stevens; he was a pretty joyless person, but Patrick always found him capable and fair. He never engaged in small talk. He always seemed satisfied if not pleased with Patrick’s work. Still, spontaneous meetings were not the norm.</p>
<p>Patrick knocked on the office door and cautiously opened it.</p>
<p>Stevens looked up at him, then offered a hand gesturing for him to sit.</p>
<p>“Brewer, you’ve been tough to track down.”</p>
<p>“Sorry, sir, I’ve been on leave following my mother’s passing.”</p>
<p>Stevens nodded impatiently. “Yes, yes, I know all that. We actually needed you for a more urgent meeting.”</p>
<p>Patrick was confused. “I didn’t know - ”</p>
<p>“Of course not, we couldn’t get a hold of you to tell you. I think inspectors even tried going to your home.”</p>
<p>The yellow notes. </p>
<p>“I apologize sir, we were just taking care of things, tying up her affairs, you know how it goes.” He at least assumed that Stevens would know; he must have dealt with the logistics that came with death at some point.</p>
<p>“It’s best to make sure you can always be <em> found</em>, Brewer. We don’t need you lost somewhere off the grid.”</p>
<p>The choice of words startled Patrick. Did he know something?</p>
<p>“Well, now that I have you, we need to arrange this meeting that’s been put on hold in your absence. The Central Government is making some changes that will impact your department in particular. They need to brief you, securely. Representatives will be traveling here to discuss the changes.”</p>
<p>This seemed significant, but Patrick had no choice but to keep his temper even and nod.</p>
<p>“This meeting will be held in two days, before work hours. This is a secure briefing, Brewer, so keep it to yourself.”</p>
<p>“Yes, sir.” Patrick stood up and showed himself out.</p>
<p>***</p>
<p>
  <b>David</b>
</p>
<p>David sat alone at the kitchen table, which was now littered with balls of crumpled paper. He had tried over and over to begin his letters but couldn’t capture the tone he wanted.</p>
<p>All his life he felt people never really took him seriously - that he was a joke. He had no idea how those from his past would respond to an earnest request for information, like he actually cared for something beyond his own little world.</p>
<p>Alexis came in then, opening the fridge casually, not looking for anything in particular. She wore a spandex workout outfit, hair twisted into a bun at the top of her head. After loudly fumbling through the contents of the fridge, she grabbed a package of blueberries and collapsed next to David.</p>
<p>“I can’t write this. I thought I would be able to help, but no one is going to take this seriously. They definitely don’t want to hear from me.”</p>
<p>Alexis watched him thoughtfully as she popped the berries into her mouth one at a time.</p>
<p>“David, why did you decide to help at all? You have never cared before.”</p>
<p>The answer was obvious - it was Patrick. Patrick had seen something in David that he found impressive. Patrick had encouraged David to use his time more productively. He had forced David to confront the realities of the world, the history. And David worried about Patrick out there. He wanted that world to be better for him.</p>
<p>He didn’t say any of that to Alexis, though. </p>
<p>“Mom and Dad can’t do it all forever,” he replied, which was also true enough.</p>
<p>“Is that it?” </p>
<p>“And - Patrick may have had something to do with it.”</p>
<p>She nodded, suppressing a smile. “Look David, all I know is you have seemed better and happier lately. I think if this will keep making you happy, you should like, follow those instincts you know?”</p>
<p>“I just want it to actually help - I want it to work.”</p>
<p>“David - no one cares.”</p>
<p>He shot a wounded expression at her.</p>
<p>“No one cares! You’re agonizing over this - whoever gets those letters won’t be. If you think this is the right thing to do, then do it!”</p>
<p>She was surprisingly good at this pep talk.</p>
<p>“In fact, I’ll join you. Show me that map - I bet I can get ahold of Klair, Ted, and maybe Albany.”</p>
<p>David looked at his sister with something like pride, and the two got to work, a new generation dipping their toes into the work of the resistance.</p>
<p>***</p>
<p>The next day, with his first letters sent out, David set to work on another goal he had set for himself.</p>
<p>
  <em> You could make it beautiful. </em>
</p>
<p>Patrick was right - the time and care David spent on his room could easily be given to the whole apartment. With Stevie’s approval, he had begun painting the walls of the living room and kitchen with fresh coats of white paint. He had found some supplies in a closet down in the Safe, which was where the family had gathered while he worked. Stevie, meanwhile, had dragged a chair from the kitchen into the living room. She sat cross legged and took periodic swigs from a bottle of wine.</p>
<p>“David Rose, I never thought I would see you doing this kind of manual labor.”</p>
<p>He scoffed. “This is hardly ‘manual labor’ - I’m just painting, Stevie.”</p>
<p>“You’re wearing mid-range denim and a t-shirt, and you’re covered in paint.” She leaned forward, grinning. “Actually, the look is kind of working for you.”</p>
<p>“Okay, enough from you.” He only had one more wall before he would tackle the more detailed areas along the paint tape.</p>
<p>“What’s after painting?”</p>
<p>“Art, then maybe some new furniture and lighting for the room. We’ll see what my parents can help with.”</p>
<p>“I’m liking this version of you, David.”</p>
<p>David turned to look at Stevie as she took another chug from the bottle, eyes still watching him. He felt a little uncomfortable around Sincere Stevie.</p>
<p>“What version?”</p>
<p>“The non-mopey version. The take-charge version. The version with ideas and goals. Who would have guessed the key to it all was finding some robot off the street for you to fall in love with?”</p>
<p>And <em> that </em> was too much for him, so he spun around quickly and let out a heavy breath.</p>
<p>“Um, that part was a joke?” Stevie stood up. “Did I hit a nerve?”</p>
<p>About a thousand images and memories flooded David’s vision: <em> Patrick staring at him the first night they met, fingers lightly grasping as they said goodbye; cooking in the kitchen in his sleep clothes; watching approvingly as David decorated his room; leaning in to kiss him on the fire escape; feeding David a taste of whatever he was preparing for dinner; sprawled out on the couch in the Safe while reading; scrunching his face at his first sip of wine; holding him, as they stayed up all night in bed, before he had to leave the next day... </em></p>
<p>It was enough to knock him down, the loss of it all. He could have dropped the paintbrush right there, retreated to his room, hid under the covers forever.</p>
<p>
  <em> Don’t sleep away your days. </em>
</p>
<p>David shook it off. He composed himself, turned to look at Stevie, and gave her an unsteady, but genuine smile. </p>
<p>“I like this version better too.”</p>
<p>***</p>
<p><b>Patrick</b> </p>
<p>Patrick walked into town to meet his father for dinner. After his puzzling meeting with Stevens, he needed to try and sort through at least some of the other concerns that continued to plague him. He wanted to see what his father knew about his mother’s past. He wasn’t prepared to show his own hand, but maybe his father would offer something.</p>
<p>He dreaded the conversation - there were so many questions to ask, but no clear way to ask them. Patrick always had a plan, but this - no plan felt right.</p>
<p>As he approached the town green, Patrick suddenly became viscerally aware that he was going to pass the house where he had spent the past week. In many ways that place had seemed so far away and distant; but of course it was right here, in the center of town, a glaring reminder of the other world he knew, of the lies propped up all around him, of David.</p>
<p>He kept his hands buried deep in his pockets, head hanging low, trying not to look. But it crept into his periphery, it practically stormed in, flooding his vision. So Patrick stopped, thinking about what was happening inside. Was everyone in the Safe, passing around a bottle of wine as they laughed and told stories? Had Angie taken to cooking for the house? What wig was Mrs. Rose wearing? Was David...okay? Was he happy? Did he think of him...or was he already a fading memory?</p>
<p>He stepped just a few feet down the alley and looked up at the fire escape and the boarded up window; David’s room. The memory of their first kiss suddenly flashed before him. He could picture David, so happy in the night air, could feel the woozy buzz from the champagne and the kiss. He wanted it back. It would be so easy - knock on the door, <em> canary</em>, David.</p>
<p>But could he leave again? Could he come and go as he pleased? No.</p>
<p>Patrick spun around, offering a polite nod to an officer patrolling the corner. He moved quickly toward the café, refusing to look back.</p>
<p>***</p>
<p>Patrick’s father sat in a corner, sipping on a glass of water, eyes glazed as he stared off.</p>
<p>“Hi,” Patrick greeted him quietly as he sat down at the table.</p>
<p>“Hi, son.” His father smiled, but it was pained. </p>
<p>“I’m sorry I haven’t been around. I really needed some time to myself, away from everything.”</p>
<p>His father nodded, looking down at the table. “You need to keep that controlled. It brings suspicion.”</p>
<p>Patrick knew he was right, but that didn’t stop the anger from surging through his body, igniting his skin. Before he could check his emotions, he shot back: “Well, it shouldn’t.”</p>
<p>His father looked up at him quickly. “What’s gotten into you?”</p>
<p>Patrick folded his hands on the table, keeping his gaze locked on his own fingers. He shook his head.</p>
<p>“Patrick, where have you been?” His father’s voice was calmer now, but thick with concern.</p>
<p>He shook his head again. There was a sour taste in his mouth. He sat perfectly still, unsure what to say. He had to say something.</p>
<p>“When I was helping to clean out mom’s things…” he began, finally looking up at his father. “There were boxes of food in the corner of my closet. A lot of food. An <em> illegal </em> amount of food.”</p>
<p>His father’s face betrayed nothing - his eyes remained set on Patrick’s.</p>
<p>“I don’t know anything about that.”</p>
<p>“Mmm,” Patrick responded skeptically. He knew the obvious follow-up point here - <em> someone </em> knew about that food, because it had made its way from Patrick’s childhood bedroom to David’s house, but he couldn’t tell his father that part.</p>
<p>“Is there a question in there, Patrick?” It sounded like a challenge. <em> This was it</em>. His father, usually so even-keeled and pleasant, had flipped a switch.</p>
<p>Patrick looked around for prying eyes, then leaned in, voice low. “I also found the first aid kit. Mean anything to you?” He had no idea where this boldness had come from, but it was too late.</p>
<p>His face again remained neutral. Patrick met his gaze, refusing to retreat.</p>
<p>Then, suddenly, his father stood up.</p>
<p>“Okay. We need to talk. Let’s go.”</p>
<p>
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</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0008"><h2>8. By Now You Probably Should Have Learned</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I want to include a brief warning for this chapter because parts of it involve children. While no children are actually harmed, some events and topics may be upsetting.</p><p>This story has a happy ending, but we are still in a dystopia for now.</p><p> </p><p>Thanks for reading!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <b>Patrick</b>
</p><p>Patrick followed his father out the door, keeping quiet as they walked across town. To any observer passing by, their relation could not be more obvious: both heads tilted toward the ground, hands dug deep into their pockets, walking nearly in lockstep.</p><p>They walked until they were beyond the town center, passing the shops and larger apartment buildings, and kept walking down the sidewalk until they found themselves in a residential neighborhood. Police patrolled here and there in their black suits, guns drawn.</p><p>Eventually Patrick’s father took a turn down a side street, quiet and empty. At the end of the street was a tiny little park - a couple of benches and a picnic table. Patrick had never seen this before; had never really encountered a street with such a unique addition. They approached a bench and sat.</p><p>“So, Patrick, tell me more about what you’ve found.” His father wouldn’t look at him, but his tone was encouraging.</p><p>Patrick didn’t want to tell him everything he knew; he certainly was not prepared to tell him where he had spent his second week off.</p><p>“I saw the food in the closet,” he repeated. “And while going through my things, a first aid kit dropped and I found some - odd things.”</p><p>His father looked at him and nodded. Patrick continued.</p><p>“I didn’t recognize most of it, odd trinkets. But there was an old picture of mom…”</p><p>After a minute or so of silence, his father finally spoke.</p><p>“Patrick, do you know anything about how your mother and I were matched?”</p><p>Patrick thought about it - no, that type of thing was not really discussed. No one romanticized or celebrated these things. They just happened. He shook his head.</p><p>“Unlike you and Rachel, we were matched much later in life. I knew of your mother, from school and growing up in town. But she disappeared for a time when the rest of us were getting jobs and starting out.”</p><p>“Where did she go?” Patrick asked, genuinely curious even though he knew more than he let on.</p><p>“Well, I later learned she was - a bit of a rebel. Literally. She had some concerns about the government, and wanted to make some changes.” He studied Patrick’s reaction, and Patrick realized his father was scared. If only he knew how much more Patrick had learned. Maybe even more than his father himself.</p><p>“What kind of changes?”</p><p>His father gave an uncomfortable laugh. “Well, I guess she felt the violence was a bit too much, and she thought people should be able to make a few more decisions for themselves, about their lives.”</p><p>Patrick knew there was more to it than that, but it ultimately got to the heart of it all.</p><p>“So where is she in the picture?”</p><p>“I don’t know,” his father replied quickly. “I only found out once we were matched. It was not a pleasant experience. I was of an age that it really had to be done, and she - she was incredibly unhappy at first, coming back to us all. So I was able to get a bit of it out of her.”</p><p>To think that his whole life, both his father and mother had this troubled past - an unhappy matching, forced and abrupt. He never felt that growing up.</p><p>“You changed all that, though,” his father continued, as though reading his mind. “Once we had you, everything fell into place. And your mother found a way to make this life work, because she cared for you that much.”</p><p>Patrick’s throat tightened. They never spoke this openly with each other, and the sentiments themselves were more than he could bear. He looked over at his father.</p><p>“And the food?”</p><p>“Yeah, I don’t know. I’m sorry, I lied a bit back there. I found it too. But I’m not sure why she did it. I sent it to a donation center for redistribution.”</p><p>“Oh...yeah, that makes sense,” Patrick replied. <em>Did it make sense?</em> He let it go. </p><p>“Are you okay, son? I know this is a lot to take in. Just remember, nothing is different, your mother was still your mother, and you are still safe and on the right track.”</p><p>Patrick had to hold back a laugh at the absurdity of that. His father clearly didn’t know the extent of his mother’s involvement, or anything about the people she had spent her time with. Patrick didn’t feel safe, and certainly not on the right track. But he had to reassure his father.</p><p>“Yeah, I know that. I’m fine. I really appreciate you giving me some answers.”</p><p>Patrick’s father gave him a gentle pat on the shoulder, a rare instance of physical connection. The two stood up to leave.</p><p>Darkness had settled around them. They began their quiet trek back towards town, eventually parting ways to go to their respective homes. </p><p>That conversation had gone about as well as Patrick could have hoped, and he felt slightly closer to his father with these secrets out in the open. But he wasn’t as satisfied as he thought he might be. Everywhere he looked, the lies of this world continued to taunt him, screaming at him, closing in on him. He didn’t belong here, not anymore.</p><p>***</p><p>
  <b>David</b>
</p><p>“I’ve already gotten replies? It’s only been two days!” David looked at the letters, stunned not only by their speedy delivery but, perhaps a little stunned that he had gotten responses at all.</p><p>“That’s good, that means our messenger contacts are still very active,” his father told him.</p><p>The family was gathered in the Safe, sipping on drinks before dinner. Angie was upstairs preparing a meal with Jason, while Jennifer was just relieving Stevie of her watch duty.</p><p>David’s heart pounded as he opened the first letter. Sebastien’s - <em> let’s get that one out of the way first</em>.</p><p>It was short and obnoxious - no surprises there. Sebastien had made some pitying remarks about how he had heard David was “morose and lonely” - David really wished he had taken Alexis’ advice and mentioned Patrick.</p><p>Sebastien did however offer up some information about what he was seeing in the city where he was currently stuck in hiding. Police patrols were increasing rapidly, which seemed to be a trend everywhere. But Sebastien also noted the growing presence of red suits - Central Government representatives. They could be seen walking the streets, flanked by police bodyguards, surveying various locations and buildings throughout the city. No one knew what their game plan was, but it was certainly a troubling development.</p><p>David relayed the note to his parents, whose expressions offered no comfort. </p><p>“Ray is on the west coast and told us the same thing,” his mother finally said. The four of them sat in an uncomfortable silence until Stevie walked in.</p><p>“Did someone die or something?” She joked.</p><p>Johnny looked at her with a sobering expression. “Not yet.”</p><p>“Read Jake’s letter, David!” Alexis broke in.</p><p>Stevie grinned. “Oooh Jake, there was a fun one.”</p><p>“Yes, very fun, just not the most emotionally-available person in the world,” David replied as he tore open the envelope.</p><p>“To be fair, I think he only has the one emotion,” Stevie countered.</p><p>As David scanned Jake’s letter, it was clear he too had some interesting information to share.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Dear David, </em>
</p><p>
  <em> SO good to hear from you. It has been too long.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> I am in probably the best safe house I’ve ever stayed before - a massive cabin in the woods. It’s gorgeous here, and safe, but we are cut off from a lot that’s happening in the nearest town. I’ve heard the Central Government has been sending more reps in but we don’t know why. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> If things get bad, your house and family are welcome to come here if you can find a safe route. We have plenty of room. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Thank you for writing David. Stay well, and tell Stevie I said hello. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> You should definitely consider coming here - we could have some fun. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Jake </em>
</p><p> </p><p>“Jake says ‘hello,’ Stevie,” David offered with a wry smile after he finished reading.</p><p>“Give me that!” she snapped as she grabbed it from him.</p><p>“Anyway,” he said, addressing the rest of his family. “He has a big safe house he offered, if we need to get out. I think it’s something like a six-hour drive south from here.”</p><p>“<em>Ye-es</em>,” Alexis replied quickly. “I would love some more space.”</p><p>Just then Angie and Jason walked in with two big trays of food. The group began rearranging the tables to fit everyone, and poured more drinks as Angie walked them through the meal. </p><p>“So, you can make your own,” she was saying. “There’s chicken, beans, tomatoes, and cheese.” She bounced up and down on her toes, hands clasped together excitedly. </p><p>“It looks great, sweetheart,” Johnny said.</p><p>“Thanks!” Angie replied. “Patrick showed me how to make the tortillas!”</p><p><em>Patrick</em>. David had gotten used to thinking of Patrick, hearing his name, without falling into despair. But with even the slightest talk about leaving town, remembering Patrick would be left here, alone - his whole body seized up. He tried to hide it, kept serving himself food, but he felt Alexis’ hand on his back. </p><p>She leaned in and whispered: “You should tell him.”</p><p>David nodded, but he wasn’t sure how, not without risking Patrick’s safety. He shoved the thought aside, hoping he could wait until his family had made a more solid decision. He focused instead on his meal, and tried to enjoy the company around him.</p><p>***</p><p>The next morning, David slept in, but still woke up in time for breakfast. He met Stevie in the kitchen and the two of them poured their coffees.</p><p>Without a word, they both gravitated into the living room; now that David had been redesigning it, they did spend more time there; the bright walls and soft lighting were inviting and soothing.</p><p>David sipped his coffee and as his mind began to catch up with his body and wake up, he felt an unfamiliar sense of anxiety creep in.</p><p>“You okay over there?” Stevie asked.</p><p>“Yes. Fine. Why?” He replied in a rush.</p><p>“Your knee has been bouncing up and down for the last five minutes. You look a little jittery.”</p><p>David put a hand on his knee and crossed his legs.</p><p>“Don’t you have this feeling that we are on the verge of something big? Like some major change is coming?”</p><p>Stevie shrugged. “Things change all the time. We adapt. That’s the life we are living, David.”</p><p>“I know that,” he replied, exasperated. “It just seems like, bigger.”</p><p>And just then his father came in through the apartment door by the kitchen.</p><p>“Kids, we need to have a meeting downstairs. Come on down.”</p><p>Down in the Safe, the whole house had gathered - his parents had even pulled whoever was on lookout duty. Everyone sat scattered about, while Johnny stood up, looking around seriously.</p><p>“Moira and I have been talking. We’ve all been getting some insights into some changes coming from the government - it’s clearly very widespread. Based on what we’ve heard, there’s no reason to think the people in hiding are a specific target here. That said - I don’t think we are safe. Whatever they are up to, I don’t feel comfortable in this house. It’s just too exposed in the center of town.”</p><p>David knew what was coming, and his heart sank.</p><p>“We need to contact some of our friends to join us, and I think we need to relocate and establish a new plan to prepare for whatever is happening. And we can’t be here. David, can you write to Jake about the house? Find out how many we can bring along?”</p><p>David’s thoughts were a blur, but he nodded. He would write to Jake. Then he would have to write to Patrick, and tell him he was leaving him for good.</p><p>***</p><p>
  <b>Patrick</b>
</p><p>The days began to bleed together as Patrick was swept back into his old routine. Unlike before, though, it brought him no satisfaction. He played the part that was expected of him, and kept himself alive. But his sense of purpose, pride in his work, sense of future - it was gone.</p><p>Stevens had called him to reschedule the secret meeting with Central Government officers three times. Patrick was deeply on edge about the meeting, and not just a little paranoid about why it had been rescheduled. With Central Government so closely involved, he worried there was some sort of pre-meeting investigation - had they learned about his mother? Had someone seen him come and go from the safe house?</p><p>On the last day of his first week back, Patrick took a minute to stop at the schoolyard he passed every day on his way to the office. He watched the children, all wearing their little grey suits and caps, as they played and laughed and scurried around the front lawn of the school. They were oblivious to the world they were a part of, had no idea how much they were actually controlled, or what would be withheld from them. </p><p>He thought about his own childhood, and how much he enjoyed that innocence of youth. That innocence really carried with him as he grew up, just what the government intended. But there was something particularly comforting about those early years, when he could go to school, play, imagine, even while his teachers indoctrinated him with the government’s lies. And he would get to go home, to the comforting world his parents had built for him, and eat his father’s weekend breakfasts, and feel safe.</p><p>Now, the closest he felt to that was when he had been with David at the house. And both his childhood and time with David were gone. </p><p>He pressed on and continued his walk to work.</p><p>***</p><p>At lunch, as usual, he sat and ate with Rachel. She vented about work pressures. She mentioned her parents had taken his father out to dinner. She talked about her friend Sydney who was scheduled to go to the doctor with her match and begin the process required to have a child.</p><p>Patrick had nothing to share. What had he even talked about before? It must have been the same as what occupied Rachel’s world, but that was all gone for him now. He listened politely.</p><p>Suddenly, Rachel brought up their own matching for the first time since he had been back.</p><p>“I wonder where our house will be. I hope it’s in one of the neighborhoods close to town, so we can have a short walk in.” She looked thoughtful as she took a bite of her sandwich.</p><p>Patrick’s brain short-circuited. He wasn’t sure he had ever made a decision so quickly, but in that instant, that very moment, he knew: he was going to end his match with Rachel. He cared deeply for her, and knew it would break her, but he couldn't share his life with her, not like this.</p><p>And as extreme as it seemed, in that moment he knew he would only be able to share it with David. If not him, then no one at all.</p><p>He was terrified at the thought, and his voice came out weak and shaky as he forced out a reply to Rachel.</p><p>“Yeah - close. Close would be good.”</p><p>She kept on eating, eyes bright and oblivious to the distress that was coursing through Patrick. </p><p>He didn’t know how, or when, but this was it. He would have to find a way to end it - not a rejection of Rachel, but of the government’s intrusion into his life and how he wanted to live it. </p><p>It was only a decision, made silently and without fanfare, but it was his first act of resistance.</p><p>***</p><p>At the end of the day, Patrick started closing things down at his workstation. He planned to stop at the market and cook a big meal to relax and distract himself from the day’s revelations. Just as he rounded the corner from the aisle of cubicles, Stevens peaked his head from his office.</p><p>“Brewer, come here.”</p><p>Patrick’s heart began to pick up its pace, but he turned around and headed toward Stevens’ office.</p><p>“Yes, sir?”</p><p>“Meeting is happening in ten minutes. Get in here.”</p><p><em> Oh</em>.</p><p>Patrick took a seat as Stevens dragged a few more chairs into his office.</p><p>He sat, shifting around nervously. </p><p>“Any idea what this is actually about?” He asked.</p><p>“No - just that it has taken a hell of a time to organize this thing. Between you going missing and their schedules filling up. I’m glad I caught you.”</p><p>Patrick nodded.</p><p>Finally, three men in suits and caps just like his, but bright crimson, appeared in the doorway. They were followed by a group of police, who stepped back to guard the office. The officers in red filed in and sat. Stevens shook their hands; they ignored Patrick. No names were exchanged.</p><p>“Brewer, can you get the door?” </p><p>Patrick obeyed, standing up promptly to shut the door before returning to his seat.</p><p>The three officers sat in a row along the wall, facing Patrick and Stevens by the desk. Finally, one of them spoke up. </p><p>“We are short on time so we’ll be brief. There is a large-scale policy change that will extend to the whole of the country. We are working quickly to make sure this is implemented within the next month. Government officials have decided that it is in the country’s best interest to redesign the education system.”</p><p>Patrick was confused - this was not his department. Just then the man directed his attention toward Patrick.</p><p>“I understand you run the property department for this region?”</p><p>“Yes, sir.”</p><p>“In approximately thirty days, we will need to make sure the government has full operational control of at least three buildings that will accommodate room, board, and classrooms.”</p><p>“O- okay,” Patrick stammered. “For what?”</p><p>“The government feels it is in the best interest for the country that the children have more direct instruction from government educators as opposed to the family unit.”</p><p>“So - wait, what? So the government is taking the children from their families? Why?”</p><p>Stevens shot Patrick a look of fear mixed with anger, shaking his head just slightly.</p><p>The officer tilted his head quizzically, studying Patrick. “Who taught you to ask us questions like that? This is exactly why we need this change.”</p><p>Patrick’s lips tightened and his body stilled. He forced himself to nod.</p><p>“In any case,” the officer continued, “We’ll need those buildings up and ready within a month. You’ll deal directly with Central Government throughout the development phase. We expect some pushback, but nothing we can’t handle. Nonetheless, it is incredibly important this stays within these four walls. We aren’t informing the public for another two weeks.”</p><p>The three men stood up, and the officer who had been speaking looked Patrick dead in the eyes. “We won’t have any problems, will we?”</p><p>Patrick mustered all the sincerity and confidence he could as he choked out, “No, sir.”</p><p>The officers all nodded, then left.</p><p>Patrick sat in stunned silence, then looked over at Stevens. This man who had always been so controlled and impassive was staring off in a daze, eyes glassy with tears. Patrick wondered if he had children at home. He didn’t ask.</p><p>“Um,” Patrick cleared his throat. “Can I go now, sir?”</p><p>Stevens shook his head, returning to his more serious posture, and wiped his eyes.</p><p>“What? Oh, yes. See you tomorrow.”</p><p>Patrick got up, walked down the hall, down the stairwell, out the front door. The sun was just starting to set. Patrick stood there on the sidewalk, eyes squinting as he looked around. He watched people walking home from their jobs. He watched as some teenagers, moving in a pack in their matching sports clothes, crossed the street in front of him. He watched a few families walking with purpose toward town, maybe for dinner.</p><p>And police, guns drawn, patrolling among them.</p><p>How could he have ever thought this was normal? How could he have ever trusted these people?</p><p>Patrick started walking home. He cut across the town green, hands in pockets, head low, deep in thought. </p><p>What now? Could he really be complicit in this plan? No. But what choice did he have?</p><p>He thought about his own childhood, the warm home that his parents had created in spite of the bleak world around them. It’s all that he had been able to cling onto, and yet now he was tasked with denying every child the same thing.</p><p>He thought of what his father told him, that it was through Patrick that his mother could cope with life in this world.</p><p>He thought of the children he passed every day in the schoolyard, oblivious to what was coming.</p><p>He thought of Rachel’s friend Sydney, just embarking on her journey to become a parent.</p><p>Patrick couldn’t do it. He stopped in his tracks, his body weak from the tension he had been carrying since the meeting. He wanted to cry, but held it back with the little energy he had left. When he looked up, he realized he was standing right by the safe house.</p><p>Patrick looked around at the green, the streets that surrounded it. It was busy with people, blissfully unaware of what was coming their way. Blissfully unaware of all of it, the lies that Patrick could no longer ignore.</p><p>He looked back at the house. He did have a choice. </p><p>Patrick stepped into the alley, down the tiny stairway, and knocked on the door. </p><p> </p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0009"><h2>9. I Haven't Been Gone Very Long, But It Feels Like a Lifetime</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong>David</strong>
</p><p>The apartments were on their own for dinner, so David had started snacking in the late afternoon. He wandered down to the Safe, teetering on the edge of boredom for the first time in a week.</p><p>He had been so good at keeping himself busy, just as Patrick had advised. But his nerves were taking over as the move came closer.</p><p>David shuffled through the bookshelf, looking for anything he might want to take with him. He came across Patrick’s copy of <em> Into the Wild</em>. No, not Patrick’s copy - but it was hard for David <em> not </em> to think of him as he sat back, leafing through the pages. It never interested him before; if anything the story frustrated him. He simply could not relate to McCandless’ desire to cut all his ties and start a new life.</p><p>But as he caught some passages flipping through the book with fresh eyes, he could see why the story had grabbed Patrick. And his heart sank thinking of him now, resigned to his rigid, pre-planned life, no opportunity to wander or imagine or explore or get out or be himself.</p><p>For all the restrictions and dangers that followed everyone living off the grid, he never felt that he didn’t have some control. There may have been boundaries, but David had certainly lived - he had traveled much of the continent, met all sorts of people; he had felt pleasure and he had been hurt, but it was <em> his </em> life and he approached it all with eyes wide. In this twisted world, the law made everyone else the safe ones, the lucky ones - but they were denied their own individuality, their right to be joyful and make mistakes and to grow or fail. </p><p>Despite all of it, the horrors of the violence and the brainwashing lies, this is the part that bothered David most of all.</p><p>***</p><p>Later that night, when most of the house was asleep, David sat at a table in the Safe, paper and pen in front of him, committing to complete the one task he had been putting off.</p><p>Throughout his life, David had struggled with his relationships - all of them. Growing up on the move, his parents not always present, made it hard for him to develop attachments. And his romantic relationships all seemed to end in heartbreak; either deep miscommunications with people, or in some cases he was victim to exploitive and manipulative behavior.</p><p>It had made him who he was, and he was learning he had grown stronger because of it all, though having now known Patrick he realized it didn’t always have to be that way.</p><p>The walls he had built around himself had started to weaken with his family, but his reflexes remained intact, and he kept most of his deepest feelings, fears, and insecurities guarded.</p><p>It had been so easy with Patrick. Over the course of their week together, the walls really began to crumble. He knew if they just had more time, he would keep letting Patrick in. But their time was up. </p><p>He stared at the blank paper, unsure what to say, how to tell Patrick what was to come. He had to say goodbye, but he didn’t want to leave it at that.</p><p>Without much thought, David started to write. He sat back and looked at the paper.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Patrick, </em>
</p><p>
  <em> I love you. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>David’s lips folded in to suppress his smile - he shook his head. He felt silly - he had never said it before, out loud or in writing - and it was too soon. </p><p>“Whatcha got there?” Stevie asked, moving in close behind him.</p><p>“Mind your business, please!” David snapped, covering the paper with his forearm.</p><p>Stevie leaned in further until David began to box her out of his space with his shoulder.</p><p>“Stop!” He quickly folded the paper and stuffed it in his pocket. He could write his letter tomorrow.</p><p>“So...as soon as we get the word from Jake, it’s pretty much go-time?” She asked cautiously.</p><p>“Yes,” he nodded. “We’ll just need to decide on a safe route, and hope for the best.” He looked around the Safe. For so long he couldn’t wait to get out of this place, he had been so suffocated by it all. But it had treated him well, protected his loved ones, and brought Patrick to him. </p><p>“I know it’s not perfect, but I think it will be good to get out of here, David. We all could use the change.”</p><p>“No, of course.” He shook his head, scattering and clearing the sad thoughts. He looked up at Stevie, still standing beside him, and smiled. “So, you never did tell me why Jake said hello to you in his letter.”</p><p>She crossed her arms and shifted her feet. “We may have had a moment.”</p><p>“You had a moment with my ex? Since when?” David feigned incredulity, but he kept smiling. </p><p>“Jake is nobody’s ex and everybody’s ex, you know that.”</p><p>David nodded and stood up. “Well, this new living arrangement should be interesting.”</p><p>Stevie smiled. “Let’s get you to bed. We have some packing to do tomorrow.”</p><p>***</p><p>The next day was busy. The house bustled with activity as everyone prepared for the big move. The Safe had turned into the landing area for everyone’s luggage, ready to grab as soon as their cars arrived in the next few days. No one could take more than a bag or two, which meant many decisions had to be made as belongings were stowed away in the house for safekeeping.</p><p>In between packing, the Roses and the rest of the house wrote and sent off letters, updating friends and family about their change of location. They had spent a lot of time trying to decide who else they should invite to Jake’s cabin in the woods. David had contacted everyone he needed to, except of course one person. He was beginning to think he didn’t have the strength to do it at all. The guilt of leaving with no goodbye or warning, though, haunted him the rest of the day.</p><p>By the time evening rolled around, David was in Jennifer and Angie’s apartment. The house was on a mission to use up all the food they could so they didn’t need to waste it or bring it along. Angie was downstairs on watch duty, and somehow David and Jennifer were tasked with cooking.</p><p>David had learned a lot from Patrick, but was by no means a good cook. Jennifer had no interest in learning at all, but here they were.</p><p>“So - to clarify - we’ve got eggs, cheese, and half a melon,” Jennifer looked at the ingredients on the table.</p><p>“What about these?” David pulled out a bunch of slightly wilted carrots and celery.</p><p>“A salad?” She offered.</p><p>“Soup?” David countered.</p><p>“Soup with just carrots and celery? <em> Carrot and celery water</em>?”</p><p>They both erupted into fits of laughter. </p><p><em> Patrick would know what to do</em>, he thought. He’d see everything and somehow have a perfect vision. </p><p>David took a deep breath to recover from laughing. “You get started with this -" he swept his hands dramatically above the food - “and I’ll set the table.”</p><p>He gathered the dishes and silverware and went down to the Safe. His parents lounged on the couch, reading with glasses of wine in hand. </p><p>“Cooking something good, son?” his father asked.</p><p>“Don’t get too excited.” </p><p>David set the table and returned to the stairwell, ready to help put together this Frankenstein dinner.</p><p>On his way up, he heard voices at the basement door. A drop off? Mail?</p><p>He took another step and then froze.</p><p>“Hey, Ange - where is he?”</p><p>David spun around, nearly tripping as he ran back down the stairs, rounding the corner into the hallway.</p><p><em> Patrick</em>.</p><p>Their eyes locked as they stood still for a moment, but just a moment, before they began rushing toward each other with purpose. An overpowering desperation had taken over David’s body, and he braced himself to crash into Patrick in those few seconds it took him to sweep across the hallway.</p><p>But just as they met, right before he was about to let himself go entirely, Patrick grabbed his arm, holding him in place; his other hand cupped David’s cheek, stopping him from leaning in. And Patrick held him there like that for a moment, eyes searching his face as though trying to memorize every feature; David felt strangely exposed, and his anxiety spiked. Then Patrick leaned in and kissed David slowly, gently, and everything around him seemed to dissolve.</p><p>
  <b>Patrick</b>
</p><p>Patrick finally pulled away, but he couldn’t stop looking at David. He stood there, watching as David’s expression turned awkward and shy. He brought both hands to David’s face, running a thumb under his eye, running another down his cheek to his chin, taking in the rough stubble. Patrick was in trouble, in so many ways.</p><p>“What are you doing here?” David whispered, finally breaking the silence.</p><p>Patrick brought his hands to David’s shoulders as his eyes lowered.</p><p>“I left. I couldn’t do it.” He knew he was making the right choice; he couldn’t be part of this new initiative, he couldn’t be with Rachel. And he was back with David.</p><p>But a tinge of guilt, and a healthy dose of fear, still lingered from a lifetime of indoctrination; he had failed. And they would make him pay for it.</p><p>David wrapped his arms around him, enveloping him in a secure and warm embrace that said <em> I’ve missed you, I’m so happy you’re here, I’ve got you now, you’re safe with me</em>.</p><p>When David let him go, he looked at him smiling with eyes just a little red. “Okay, we have a lot to catch up on. But first, we really need your help with dinner.”</p><p>***</p><p>Patrick’s chest was warm and full as he sat down to eat, welcomed by familiar faces. He had been greeted with hugs and smiles, and a celebratory mood hung in the air. He couldn’t believe his return would evoke this reaction from people he had known for only two weeks, but it only made him feel more solid in his decision. The Roses and housemates passed around bottles of wine and champagne - according to David, they had to use them up.</p><p>Patrick had assembled a massive cheese board with the food David and Jennifer had found, along with some odds and ends from the other kitchen. As everyone happily picked it apart, reality began to take over once again.</p><p>While setting up the tables in the Safe, Patrick couldn’t help but notice the collection of bags. It still hadn’t come up.</p><p>“So what’s all that about?” he nodded toward the luggage.</p><p>“We’re jumping ship,” Jason replied as he grabbed a deviled egg. Patrick turned to David, who quickly grabbed his hand.</p><p>He looked at him with fierce certainty. “You’re coming.”</p><p>“Where are we going?” Patrick shifted uncomfortably. This was probably for the best, since the authorities would certainly start looking for him soon. But he had never left his town - not once in his whole life.</p><p>“A much <em> bigger </em> house,” Alexis chimed in. “We’re going to stay with one of David’s old friends.”</p><p>“I don’t know how much bigger it’s going to feel with the amount of people you all have invited,” David replied.</p><p>“What friend?” Patrick asked.</p><p>Stevie and Alexis smirked as David’s head fell back in exasperation, looking up at the ceiling.</p><p>“Jake.”</p><p>The name was familiar to Patrick for some reason...<em> oh</em>. An uneasy feeling grew in his stomach. He didn’t recognize it, but it was something like... <em> jealousy</em>? He didn’t want to meet this guy, or let David near him. But he kept that to himself. “Got it.”</p><p>“<em>Anyway</em>,” David said loudly, redirecting the conversation. “We’re just waiting on his final okay, then we’ll find a safe route and move.”</p><p>Patrick thought about that. He knew from Rachel that the government had been ramping up its security. It was going to be very difficult to get out.</p><p>“Do you have a safe route in mind?” </p><p>“Not yet,” David admitted.</p><p>Patrick mulled that over. This could be tricky. <em> But what if… </em></p><p>“I might be able to help with this.”</p><p>Everyone looked at him. </p><p>“I have a friend who works for the Security Department. If she knew what was going on, what was really happening, she might help us out.”</p><p>He could tell the group was uneasy about this - bringing another Citizen into the mix, especially one with those connections, could be dangerous.</p><p>“Look, here’s the thing. I’ve been having a tough time out there since I left, but the last straw came today,” he started. Patrick swallowed. He was about to disobey Central Government’s direct orders. He could hear the dueling voices in his head, one telling him to be a dutiful Citizen, the other reminding him this new initiative was morally wrong.</p><p>“They’re making a big change. All children will now be raised outside of the families - the government wants more control over their education and upbringing. I - couldn’t be a part of that.”</p><p>The shocked and sad expressions all around the table only confirmed the true depravity of the government’s scheme - these people had seen it all, and still were stunned into silence.</p><p>Mrs. Rose spoke up first. “This explains the red suits everyone has been seeing. Surveying for locations, I presume?”</p><p>Patrick nodded. “That’s right. I worked for the Property Department, so they want me to help secure the buildings.”</p><p>“This seems too far though - they aren’t really going to get away with it, are they?” David asked.</p><p>“The officer I spoke with did predict some pushback, but I’m guessing people will fall in line. They always do.”</p><p>“Not always,” Mr. Rose said, looking him in the eye. “We didn’t. You didn’t.”</p><p>Patrick felt David’s hands on his shoulder, and absentmindedly reached for one.</p><p>“When is this announcement meant to happen, Patrick?” Mrs. Rose asked him.</p><p>“Two weeks.”</p><p>“Then we’ve got work to do,” Mr. Rose said, standing up. “Patrick, we’ll help you contact your friend about that safe route. Everyone else, we’ve got some more letters to write.”</p><p>***</p><p>The next morning Patrick awoke in David’s bed. That feeling of warmth and safety all came rushing back. He shifted on his side and watched David sleep. Whatever happened, if he was tracked down and caught, if they didn’t make it to the new house, it was worth it to be back here again, even just one more time. He brought a finger to David’s face, lightly tracing his features.</p><p>Suddenly, David’s eyes shot open.</p><p>“Can I please get ready before you look at me for so long,” he grumbled with a small smile, batting away Patrick’s hand.</p><p>Patrick leaned in and kissed him. “Whatever you want, David.”</p><p>He rolled out of bed and went to the kitchen to make some tea while David took his time waking up.</p><p>If all went according to plan, one of the Rose’s messengers would be contacting Rachel, and she would be showing up later that day. He hoped she would take it seriously, that the message conveyed the urgency and discretion she needed to take.</p><p>***</p><p>In the late afternoon, David and Patrick finished up their packing. For Patrick, it wasn’t much - he still had the old clothes he had worn the week before, and folded those into a small pile, along with a few books.</p><p>“We’ll get you some new clothes after the move,” David assured him as he looked at the sad pile of jeans and t-shirts on the bed.</p><p>Patrick didn’t mind, but he smiled at David’s grimace. He collected his suit and cap which had been discarded on the floor the night before. </p><p>“I want to burn these,” he said, throwing them on the bed.</p><p>David placed a hand on Patrick’s shoulder. “I don’t blame you. But honestly, they might come in handy at some point.”</p><p>Patrick sighed and folded the jacket and pants up neatly on top of the other clothes. </p><p>***</p><p>
  <b>David</b>
</p><p>That evening David and Patrick sat together at a small table in the Safe, feeling content after another meal cobbled together as they worked to empty the pantry. They each had a book, but David couldn’t read. He kept sneaking glances at the man across from him - he couldn’t believe this was real. It pained him that Patrick had to make the decision to leave his other life, and David was deeply distraught about the developments happening out there, but Patrick was <em> back</em>; he had chosen this life instead, chosen David, and maybe they could try this out for real, and make it work - there was at least more time, maybe not enough, but --</p><p>Before David could let his thoughts spiral further into the future, the door to the Safe opened as Jennifer ushered in a petite woman in a grey suit and glossy red hair pinned beneath her cap. Behind her Jennifer made wide eyes at David, and he knew what she meant - Rachel was absolutely lovely. The jealousy crept back in, but David did what he could to remind himself it was irrational, matches weren’t romantic, Patrick had left <em> for him</em>. Still, as Patrick stood up David did the same, bringing a hand to Patrick’s lower back possessively.</p><p>Rachel looked around the room, a strange mix of thoughtful curiosity and fear playing across her face.</p><p>“Hey, Rach. Thank you so much for coming.” Patrick stepped forward, away from David. </p><p>“Patrick, what’s going on? What is this? Where is your suit? Who are these people?” Her tone remained calm.</p><p>“Yeah, we should talk.” He looked over at David, who took the cue.</p><p>“I’ll go upstairs. Come on up when you’re ready.” He gave Patrick’s shoulder a quick squeeze and followed Jennifer out.</p><p>Up in the kitchen, David made himself some tea, and prepared some cups for Patrick and Rachel in case they joined him. He paced back and forth, nervous about the conversation happening downstairs. Part of him was just jealous again, the two of them having this alone time - becoming closer as Patrick shared these huge, life-altering revelations with her. Would this change his mind about her? Or what if she reacted badly, and left the house to report them to the police? They had some contacts protecting them, but certainly not enough.</p><p>Alexis walked in wearing her workout clothes. “Ohh David, can you make me a tea too?”</p><p>“Fine,” he snapped. </p><p>“Umm, I can do it if it’s that big a deal.”</p><p>David took a deep breath. “I’m sorry. It’s not you.” He poured Alexis a cup and joined her at the table.</p><p>“Patrick is downstairs with his friend from Security - it’s Rachel, his intended match. He’s telling her everything now.”</p><p>Alexis nodded. “It’ll be fine. He’s a good one, David. And he’s one of us now.”</p><p>David smiled. He really liked the sound of that.</p><p>After a few more minutes, he could hear footsteps coming up the stairs.</p><p>Patrick stepped into the kitchen with Rachel right behind him. David stood up.</p><p>“Can I make you some tea?” He asked a bit nervously. To his surprise, Rachel looked at him with a big, warm grin.</p><p>“Sure, thank you, David.” She turned to Patrick. “He already knows to calm you down with tea.”</p><p>David filled the mugs with hot water, handing them over as Patrick and Rachel moved further into the kitchen. Alexis stood up, offering her hand to Rachel.</p><p>“Hi Rachel - I’m Alexis!”</p><p>
  <em> Did she just flip her hair over her shoulder? </em>
</p><p>Rachel took Alexis’ hand, clearly unfamiliar with the gesture, and maybe just a little dazed as she looked his sister up and down. He shot a glance toward Patrick, who seemed just as surprised by this whole exchange.</p><p>David cleared his throat. “So, how did everything go - downstairs?”</p><p>Rachel turned to him, pulling her hand back.</p><p>“Good,” Patrick replied. “Really good.”</p><p>“Well, I’m still taking it all in. And I am devastated about the children - I just can’t believe they’d do that to us.”</p><p><em> They’ve done plenty of awful things</em>, David thought, but reminded himself she was just learning about it all. Patrick had been no different not long ago.</p><p>“Rachel agreed to help us get through one of the checkpoints. I’d like her to talk to your parents about that, David.”</p><p>“Wow, Rach, that’s such a big risk, are you sure?” Alexis asked, sitting back down at the table.</p><p>David looked at his sister and narrowed his eyes at her show of familiarity.</p><p>“I would do anything to protect Patrick,” Rachel replied simply. “And if you all are working to stop this law, I’m happy to help.”</p><p>Patrick smiled at her. “We’re grateful. Really.” He turned to David. “Where are your parents?”</p><p>“Hiding in mine and Stevie’s room,” Alexis groaned and tipped back her head to yell. “Mom! Dad!”</p><p>“You could have walked the two feet to your room, Alexis,” David hissed, hands over his ears.</p><p>His parents made their way into the crowded kitchen, both clearly ready for an early night in their sleep robes. </p><p>“Alexis what is the meaning of this clamorous racket?” His mother asked.</p><p>“Mr. and Mrs. Rose, this is my friend Rachel,” Patrick replied, gesturing to Rachel who had joined Alexis at the table.</p><p>“Oh, well hello!” his father offered cheerfully, hands in the pockets of his robe.</p><p>“Hi,” Rachel replied, smiling. “I hear you need to get through a checkpoint.”</p><p>“Yes, that’s right,” his father moved to sit down. “You can help with that?”</p><p>“Show me the route you have in mind and we’ll see.”</p><p>His mother walked back to Stevie’s room and returned with a folded map. After tossing it on the table, she spun around. “Children, let me know when there’s a solid proposal for our escape.” She glided out of the room, and David watched his father and Rachel unfold and spread out the map, both hunching over to examine it. His father pointed out the routes he had in mind as Rachel marked the security points they would need to cross.</p><p>Patrick walked over, taking David’s hand. He hadn’t realized how tense he was, but he calmed instantly at the touch.</p><p>“If you want a southern route, this one will only have a single checkpoint as you leave town,” Rachel explained, pointing at the map. “But it’s a big one. I should probably be there.”</p><p>“We should do this soon,” Patrick cut in. “They’re going to be looking for me.”</p><p>David squeezed Patrick’s hand, then looked at his father, who nodded.</p><p>“Tomorrow. Tomorrow night, late. I’ll get our cars. Hopefully Jake will be okay with an early arrival.”</p><p>Everyone was quiet after that as they sipped their tea. <em>Tomorrow</em>.</p><p>***</p><p>
  <b>Patrick</b>
</p><p>Rachel and Patrick walked down to the hallway that ran between the Safe and the basement door to the alley. They stood in the darkness, until Patrick spoke.</p><p>“I am so sorry for how this all turned out. I know we had a plan, but I just can’t - “<br/><br/>“Patrick, stop,” she said, placing a hand lightly on his arm. <em> Had she ever done that before</em>? </p><p>“I get it. It’s hard for me to wrap my head around, it’s really a lot - but you don’t have to apologize.” She paused. “They are good people, and really - engaging.” </p><p>“They put a lot into their presentation,” he laughed quietly. “But yeah, I could barely look away once I met David.”</p><p>“Hmm,” she murmured.</p><p>“Rach, could I ask one more favor of you? I know you’re already doing so much.”</p><p>“Shoot.”</p><p>“Can you - tell my dad? He should know I’m leaving.”</p><p>“What does he know?”</p><p>“Just tell him - I found my mom’s friends, and I’m going to stay with them. And we’re leaving town. And I’m sorry.”</p><p>Rachel stayed quiet for a minute.</p><p>“Okay. I guess I’ll see you tomorrow, Patrick.”</p><p>Patrick leaned close and wrapped his arms around her, the first hug they had ever shared, except maybe as kids. “Thank you.”</p><p>She returned the hug awkwardly, then stepped back, and slipped into the darkness as she headed for the door.</p><p>***</p><p>The next day everyone finished packing and getting the house in order. It was possible the house would no longer be protected with the residents gone, but they could only bring so much with them.</p><p>Patrick wondered how David felt leaving his room, and the living room, these spaces he worked so hard to curate. He figured David could bring his specific eye anywhere, though, and transform it into something elegant and thoughtful.</p><p>They walked through the apartment one last time, then gathered in the Safe with the rest of the house. A nervous anticipation hung in the air.</p><p>David, Stevie, Jen, Angie, and Jason - they hadn’t even left the house in years. And they all worried, Patrick imagined, about Rachel - would she come through? Would their plan work?</p><p>Jason stood up. “I’ll go wait at the door.”</p><p>Patrick trusted Rachel. For him, the whole plan was simply surreal. This would be his first time leaving his town. He would be a true fugitive, pursued by the government, probably a high priority as someone who knew about their new initiative. A month ago he had both his parents, and a life planned out for him. Now, he was leaving his family, embarking on a journey into the unknown.</p><p>After a few minutes, Mr. Rose perked up, listening. “Is there someone here?”</p><p>“It’s too early for the cars,” David replied.</p><p>Sure enough, Patrick could hear voices - Jason was talking to someone. He stood up.</p><p>The door opened slowly, and Patrick froze.</p><p>His father stepped through the entrance with Jason following close behind. Before he could say anything, Mr. and Mrs. Rose were standing too.</p><p>“Johnny. Moira,” his father nodded, taking off his cap.</p><p>Mr. Rose nodded in return. “Well hi, Clint,” he offered gently. “It’s been awhile.”</p><p> </p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0010"><h2>10. The Idea Just Lives On</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <b>Patrick</b>
</p><p>“Ok, <em> what </em> is going on?” </p><p>Patrick threw his arms out, palms open in supplication. His eyes darted back and forth between the Roses and his father.</p><p>“Look, Patrick, there was a bit more to the story I shared with you,” his father started. </p><p>“Clearly!” He charged, nearly shouting. His father put his hand up, gesturing for him to calm down.</p><p>“You weren’t completely honest with me either, <em> clearly</em>,” his father replied smoothly. He took a step forward.</p><p>“Wait, how do you two know each other?” Mr. Rose asked, pointing at Patrick and then his father.</p><p>Patrick was distraught. In his mind, he was already gone, out of town, the past and all the lies that had come with it behind him. And here they were, at the eleventh hour, and he was forced to confront even more revelations about his family. He moved back to the couch, brushing past David as he reached for him.</p><p>“Patrick is my son,” his father responded, his eyes following Patrick.</p><p>“Clint! I never realized you had offspring! Or were attached at all!” Mrs. Rose clutched her hands together, almost pouting at the omission.</p><p>His father moved toward the couch, pulling a chair across from Patrick. Everyone else turned to watch their exchange, cautious to keep their distance.</p><p>“Everything I told you was true,” he looked at Patrick, who stayed trained on his hands folded in his lap. “But once your mother and I matched, I realized she was still keeping in touch with the folks underground, and I decided I’d rather join her than fight her. It didn’t last long.”</p><p>Patrick was not satisfied. He looked up and pointed at the Roses. “They didn’t even know my mother. How do they know you?”</p><p>“We stayed involved, just not always together. It was safer that way. There was a period of time when the Roses were here a lot, and I was the one coming by. Your mother was at home, with you.”<br/>
<br/>
“What were you doing for them?” Patrick demanded.</p><p>“Clint was an excellent source of intelligence for us when he was here,” Mr. Rose cut in. “You worked in the Department of Communications, right?”</p><p>His father smiled and nodded. “Correct.”</p><p>“A pretty high clearance level, if I remember,” Mr. Rose continued. “His information really helped us make decisions as we all moved around, recruited, got messages out.”</p><p>“I wish I could have helped longer,” his father sighed, looking at Patrick. “It just got too dangerous. We needed to keep you safe, so we moved on.”</p><p>“The food?” Patrick asked.</p><p>“We continued to supply this house when we could,” he said simply.</p><p>Patrick just stared. His father was right - he too had lied about how much he knew, <em> who </em> he knew. And yes, he was ready to abandon his old life, maybe leaving town forever.</p><p>But once again, his perception of the world, his own life story, was muddled by this new information. At the end of the day, though, he was happy to know the role his parents played in the resistance; and there was something comforting about his father knowing the Roses years ago.</p><p>As he sat there, unsure what to say, David joined him on the couch, pulling him gently into a one-armed embrace. Without thinking, Patrick turned and leaned into him, head dropping to David’s shoulder. It calmed him instantly - he closed his eyes and breathed deep. </p><p>Then his eyes flew open and found his fathers’.</p><p>He looked at Patrick with surprise; Patrick could see the realization washing over him. Then his eyes softened.</p><p>“How long have you been coming here, Patrick?” he asked.</p><p>“A few weeks,” he breathed quietly.</p><p>He nodded gently. “It’s hard to be out there when you know the things we know.”</p><p>“I don’t know how you and mom did it,” Patrick replied, sitting up on the couch again.</p><p>“Well,” he began, looking at David for a moment, “we had each other. And you.”</p><p>Patrick nodded, but he wasn’t sure if that would have even been enough for him.</p><p>After a brief silence, David spoke up.</p><p>“David Rose, by the way,” he offered with a charming smile, extending a hand for his father to take.</p><p>“Clint Brewer. Rose - so you’re Johnny and Moira’s little boy? You were a toddler when I used to come by. There were some other Rose babies, right?”</p><p>David pointed toward his family, listening in from the sidelines. “That’s my sister Alexis. And basically my other sister Stevie, but she’s technically not a Rose.”</p><p>“Budd,” Stevie raised a hand just slightly, shifting her feet awkwardly in place.</p><p>“Budd? Jesus.” Patrick’s father looked around nervously, unsure how to respond.</p><p>“I know about my parents,” Stevie replied bluntly. “Murdered by the police, bodies displayed on the town green. If that’s what you’re driving at.”</p><p>“Well, yeah,” he confirmed, rubbing a hand across the back of his neck. “I think they were the reason Marcy couldn’t stay here anymore. The Budds were her good friends, they recruited her. And what was done to them - the risks became pretty obvious.”</p><p>“I had no idea of this connection,” Mrs. Rose shook her head, still frustrated.</p><p>“So, Patrick,” his father looked at him. “What’s the plan, here? You’re all leaving?”</p><p>“Yeah,” he said, somewhat ashamed, as he reached for David’s free hand. “Dad, there’s some changes happening, and we’re going to see what we can do about it.”</p><p>The group proceeded to explain the new education policy, centralizing the children for indoctrination away from their families.</p><p>His father remained still, listening, then cleared his throat. </p><p>“Okay. I will keep them off your trail for as long as I can around here. Please keep me updated on how everything’s going, will you?”</p><p>“Yes,” Patrick assured him. “And thank you.”</p><p>As if on cue, Jason came through the door.</p><p>“Cars are here - we need to move.” </p><p>And then everyone was up, snatching up their bags and moving quickly into the hall. Patrick’s father faced him by the door, placing a hand on his shoulder. </p><p>“Hey - I’m proud of you, son."</p><p>Patrick looked away, overwhelmed by a rush of emotion.</p><p>“Your mother would be proud, too.”</p><p>And that was it - Patrick wiped at the tears and stood tall, trying to keep his composure, as his father pulled him into a hug. It was the first one he could remember since childhood.</p><p>When he let go, he turned to David. “You’ll take good care of him?”</p><p>David’s tiny side-smile crept in. “I’ll do my best.”</p><p>“He will,” Patrick affirmed, stepping back. “Bye, Dad.”</p><p>And then Patrick took David by the hand, leading him through the Safe door, down the darkened hallway, and out into the street.</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>David</b>
</p><p>The car ride was tense and quiet. David’s whole body felt like it was on fire - for one, he sat in the back seat of the car, Patrick pressed against him as he tried to leave space for both Alexis and Stevie on his other side. Jason sat up front with the driver, who wore a gray suit and cap, eyes concealed by dark sunglasses.</p><p>Adrenaline seemed to course through every one of David’s limbs as the car drove through town toward their checkpoint. They all tried to stay low, but it was hard not to steal a glance outside the window - David was finally out. It was dark, and the town was quiet. But he was reminded that this was a living and breathing place - there was something so strange about seeing the buildings, the schools and shops, which in the daylight saw the people come and go, oblivious to it all; he pitied them and envied them all at once.</p><p>They crawled through the town, then picked up speed as the road opened up, buildings and houses becoming scarcer. The speed of the car, and the awareness of adding more and more distance between themselves and the town - David couldn’t help but feel like he was finally shedding that sensation of being trapped. </p><p>His body trembled with anticipation - he wanted to sit up straight, roll down the windows, leap from the car and just <em> run </em> - and David hated running. He wanted to run with Patrick. He wanted to do <em> anything </em> with Patrick, everything with him would be new, and feel like the first time -</p><p>But he kept still, ragged breaths escaping every so often. </p><p>Then the car slowed. They had reached the checkpoint. </p><p>Suddenly they were swarmed by police officers in black suits, menacing as they held their rifles at the ready. The driver rolled down the window.</p><p>“What the hell is this?” An officer asked, looking over the rag-tag group stuffed into the car. His head jerked to the side quickly as the other car pulled up behind them.</p><p>David sat up to get a better look. No use hiding now.</p><p>In front of them a massive chain-link fence barricaded the whole road. Officers patrolled the length of it on both sides, guns and flashlights drawn; a few police vehicles sat idly off to the side. They were surrounded by thick, green forest, dark and ominous in the night. More police patrolled there as well, scattered as they weaved between the trees, the faint glow of their flashlights just barely giving them away.</p><p>“You can stand down, Dane, I’ve got it.” Rachel pushed her way through the officers, commanding authority despite her tiny frame. The men backed off as she approached the window.</p><p>“Just do as I say,” she whispered.</p><p>Then her tone changed. “I’m going to need both of these cars to drive through the gate and pull over right now. Be prepared to have your vehicles searched.” David looked at Patrick, who shrugged faintly.</p><p>The cars slowly made their way to the other side, guns drawn on them from all angles. Once they parked, Rachel approached again, urging the officers to give her space. She moved to the other car and spoke quietly with their driver. Then she returned, leaning in again. “Be ready to move fast.” She stepped back and looked at the nearest officers.</p><p>“There’s more cars coming. I need more bodies back on the other side of that gate.”</p><p>“Did you check IDs?” The officer named Dane asked.</p><p>“What do you think?” She shot back, flaring. “They’re off for a little family joy ride and thought they could get away with it without proper clearance. They can’t.” She threw a cold glare at the car. </p><p>“Anyway,” she continued. “We’re going to send them back, but let’s wait for the other car.”</p><p>The officers milled through the gate, leaving only three or so on the side with Rachel and the cars. She stood there and surveyed the situation, arms crossed confidently. The time passed like hours, but it was probably only five minutes or so. Then Rachel walked off, disappearing in the darkness.</p><p>“Are we supposed to start going?” Stevie whispered. The driver shook his head.</p><p>Just then, the hatchback trunk to the car opened up. David braced himself to get out of the car - maybe their time was up after all.</p><p>He was startled by a loud thud, and turned around to see Rachel tossing a suitcase into their trunk. Then, she hopped in herself, reaching up to shut the trunk door behind her.</p><p>“MOVE!” She shouted, and the driver <em> moved</em>.</p><p>He accelerated to get going and then they hit top speed, racing through the night. The headlights of his parents’ car pierced through the darkness behind them - wait, was it his parents’ car?</p><p>Patrick spun around as best he could, wedged between Stevie and David.</p><p>“Rachel, what the hell?”</p><p>“I know, I should have told you, but I can’t be part of this anymore either, Patrick!” She pleaded desperately, nearly yelling.</p><p>“Fuck.” Patrick turned back to face the front again, pulling at his hair. David looked at him, briefly sidetracked by that response.</p><p>Alexis and Stevie both craned their necks to try and see behind them.</p><p>“Is that our other car?” Alexis asked.</p><p>“No,” the driver replied.</p><p>The lights continued to come nearer. They kept on moving, but David felt the car begin to drift slightly off course, into the middle of the road, then to the other side.</p><p>And then the driver hit the brakes hard, jerking everyone from their seats, held in place only by seat belts and their crowded space. Rachel nearly flew into the back seat from the rear of the car.</p><p>The car behind them sped past, screeching to a halt as they simultaneously tried to turn around. It was too much, and the car spun out, flipping over in a loud, smoky crash.</p><p>Everyone sat in stunned silence for a moment, but just a moment - before David could collect his thoughts, Patrick was scrambling over him to open the door, and Rachel had hopped out from the back. The two ran over to the crashed car, opening the driver’s door.</p><p>David’s parents' car pulled up next to them; apparently they had been behind the whole chase. He watched Rachel and Patrick pull the driver’s limp body from the car, settling him on the grass by the road. And then Patrick came jogging back.</p><p>“Do we have any water? And maybe a coat or a blanket?”</p><p>“For that guy? Nope,” Stevie replied, incredulous. </p><p>Patrick’s face contorted into something like anger - it was unfamiliar to David. “We’re not just going to leave him for dead, Stevie.”</p><p>“What do you think he was going to do if he had caught up with <em> us</em>?” she demanded.</p><p>“Then we’re better. Do we have anything or not?”</p><p>Jason rummaged through his bag and handed over a water bottle.</p><p>“It’s pretty cold, I don’t want to leave him exposed.” Patrick’s eyes moved from person to person, daring them to challenge him.</p><p>“I literally have nothing you could use,” Alexis replied, somewhat apologetically. Stevie turned away.</p><p>David couldn’t believe what he was about to do. Letting out a loud, exasperated sigh, he began pulling a <em> very </em> expensive and treasured sweater over his head, looking away as he handed it to Patrick. When he finally met his eyes, he decided Patrick’s flicker of a smile was worth it. Almost.</p><p>Patrick leaned in to kiss him quickly, then ran back.</p><p>Within a few minutes, both cars were on the road again. David leaned in toward the driver.</p><p>“What on earth are my parents paying you? It can’t be enough!”</p><p>The driver paused. “It is.”</p><p>***</p><p>David fell asleep for most of the drive. When he awoke, the dark night sky was just starting to give way to the sunrise. Their car had turned off the main road onto a rough dirt path, overgrown with tree branches, bushes and tall weeds. They rolled along the bumpy trail for nearly another hour, until they emerged from the dense forest onto the grounds of the cabin.</p><p>Jake wasn’t kidding - the house was enormous, rustic but updated with huge floor to ceiling windows and balconies off of several rooms. They spilled out of the cars, dragging their bags and belongings with them. As the passengers from both cars reunited and hugged, Rachel stood off awkwardly to the side. David watched as Alexis walked over to her.</p><p>“Aren’t you a sneaky one?” She joked, gently pushing at Rachel’s shoulder. Rachel smiled.</p><p>“I hope it’s okay. I didn’t know what else to do.”</p><p>“We’ll take care of you,” Alexis cooed as she “booped” her on the nose.</p><p>David’s parents spent some time speaking with the drivers, who promptly turned the cars around and disappeared into the trees.</p><p>A light turned on, illuminating a window by the cabin’s front door, and out came Jake in a pair of jeans and a flannel shirt, unbuttoned over his bare chest.</p><p>
  <em> Seems about right. </em>
</p><p>“Welcome, everyone! So good to see some new faces!” He greeted them warmly as he walked toward the group, arms open wide.</p><p>Jake made the rounds, hugging everyone, even Rachel and Patrick, as they thanked him for his hospitality. </p><p>David was grateful, but returned his hug awkwardly, just before Jake leaned in to kiss him, right on the mouth. Great.</p><p>“Nice, to see you,” he choked out, clearing his throat and avoiding eye contact with Patrick.</p><p>“Pony!” Jake smiled at Stevie, and moved in to kiss her too.</p><p>“Okay!” She replied loudly, pushing him back. “Why don’t you give us the grand tour?”</p><p>Jake cheerfully turned toward the house. “Of course, let’s go inside!”</p><p>Patrick leaned in close to David as they trailed behind the group. “So, is there a story here I’m missing?”</p><p>“No - that’s just Jake.”</p><p>“Mmm.”</p><p>They stepped inside and marveled at the huge open kitchen. </p><p>“Some <em> real space</em>,” Alexis moaned happily, running her fingers along the marble island.</p><p>“It’s so lovely, Jake,” Angie chimed in. “I can’t wait to see more!” </p><p>“Everyone else is still sleeping, so we’ll have to be quiet,” he explained, putting a finger to his lips and eyeing her conspiratorially. </p><p>They roamed the house quietly, taking in the large dining room, sun room, and living room. The ceilings were high with large exposed beams. Upstairs several doors were closed, but Jake showed them to a group of empty bedrooms.</p><p>“Make yourselves at home for now. We can move around later - there will be a lot more people, I’ve been told.” He smiled at David’s parents, who had undoubtedly invited most of the guests.</p><p>“Rach, you can come with me and Stevie,” Alexis offered. Stevie looked less than impressed as she dragged her bag into an empty room.</p><p>His mother moved toward another door. “I do need to recharge after that daring expedition.”</p><p>As everyone disappeared to rest, David and Patrick slipped into one of the rooms and collapsed on the bed. </p><p>David rolled on his side to look at him.</p><p>“We made it,” David whispered.</p><p>Patrick closed his eyes tight. “So far.”</p><p>David put an arm around him. “One step at a time.”</p><p>***</p><p>
  <b>Patrick</b>
</p><p>When he woke up, David was out of bed, changed into a new sweater, hair done and tying his shoes. He looked good.</p><p>“Morning,” David looked up.</p><p>Patrick could hear voices outside the door - it was actually quite loud.</p><p>“What’s going on out there?” he asked, rubbing his face.</p><p>“The others have been arriving - come on, let’s get you dressed so you can come meet everyone.”</p><p>“Are we coming up with our plan? To stop the government?”</p><p>David looked at him with a small smile.</p><p>“Yeah, we’ll get to that. But not yet. Come on, Jake let me borrow a shirt that should fit you.”</p><p>Patrick took the shirt and slipped it over his white t-shirt. He looked at his reflection in the mirror. It was unlike anything he had ever worn before - a short sleeved button-down shirt, covered in a floral print of oranges, reds, and greens. He smoothed his hands down the front. He liked it.</p><p>David came up behind him and placed his hands on his shoulders, looking at the reflection with him. He ran a hand through Patrick’s hair, doing his best to tame the curls.</p><p>Patrick turned around. “So, what is this, dinner with everyone or something?”</p><p>“Um, something like that,” David replied. “It should be a good party.”</p><p>“David, don’t we need to get to work? Time is sort of running out here.”</p><p>David placed his hands firmly on Patrick’s shoulders again, looking straight at him.<br/>
<br/>
“Remember what I told you when we met? Part of the resistance is practicing joy. We haven’t seen these people in years. We’re going to celebrate that, and then we’ll be able to work.”</p><p>Patrick hesitated. In his old life, things followed a logical order. And solving problems, especially big ones, came before any indulgence in pleasure or fun.</p><p>But David was right - they had made it. He crossed the first hurdle, escaped town. He was in a new place, beautiful and remote, and he was here, with David. He thought back to that night in David’s room, David crouched outside the window, pleading with Patrick to join him on the fire escape. And that night had changed everything between them. He took a deep breath.</p><p>“Okay. Let’s go have some fun.”</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0011"><h2>11. Just Turns the Jukebox On and We Hum Along</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <b>Patrick</b>
</p><p>Patrick followed David as they descended down the stairs into the living room, crowded and buzzing with warmth and life. Patrick scanned the room - clusters of people stood together chatting, laughing, hugging, and more groups spilled into the kitchen. He remembered the photos he had found of his mother and the others at the safe house back home, the colors and jewelry and skin - it wasn’t so different here. He adjusted the collar on his shirt as he moved toward the crowd.</p><p>Everyone had a drink in hand, and as they noticed David entering the fray, their glasses went up and cheers rang out. David rolled his eyes and tried to hide a smile, but Patrick could tell he loved it.</p><p>“Ronnie, Karen, you look well,” David greeted two women who rushed in to hug him. “This is my -,” he stammered. “This is Patrick.”</p><p>“Ronnie,” the first woman offered, gripping Patrick’s hand tightly. “My wife, Karen,” she continued, tilting her head. Karen smiled and waved.</p><p>“Good to meet you both,” Patrick replied politely.</p><p>Ronnie’s eyes narrowed. “So where did you pick this one up, David?”</p><p>Patrick’s eyes narrowed in return. Why was she talking about him like he wasn’t standing right there?</p><p>“Funny story,” David started, bending his knees a bit to turn and look at Patrick before straightening back up. “Patrick is a recent recruit.”</p><p>Ronnie crossed her arms. “How recent?”</p><p>“Officially? Maybe two days?” He glanced at Patrick for confirmation.</p><p>“It’s been a few weeks,” Patrick corrected. Maybe it hadn’t been official, but he knew he was recruited the moment David pulled him in from the alley, guided him into the Safe, and turned his reality upside-down. </p><p>Ronnie continued to eye him suspiciously, but a small smile appeared. “Well, welcome Patrick. And remember, you’re not out there anymore - you can loosen up.” She placed a hand on his shoulder and shook him a bit - sure enough, Patrick realized he had been standing straight, at-attention, rigid - muscle memory from interacting with people in his old life.  </p><p>“Maybe I need a drink,” he breathed, and laughter erupted from the group. David grabbed his shoulders and steered him toward the kitchen.</p><p>The kitchen island was packed with bottles, most of them unrecognizable to Patrick. David grabbed the first clean cups he could find in the cabinets, which happened to be ceramic coffee mugs, and poured.</p><p>They clinked their mugs and each downed their drink in one gulp to catch up with the rest of the party. A searing pain shot through Patrick’s head at the sweetness.</p><p>“Ughhh - was that champagne?”</p><p>“No,” David shook his head in disgust. “That was <em> zham-pagne </em>…must have come with the Schitts.” </p><p>David found some red wine and refilled their mugs. People still milled about the kitchen, but no one had come over to greet David yet. Patrick turned to face him, leaning against the island.</p><p>“So, I’m your ‘Patrick’?” </p><p>David’s expression turned slightly panicked. “I just didn’t want to make you uncomfortable, we didn’t talk about it - how you wanted to be introduced.”</p><p>Patrick thought about it. He was starting something new here, meeting people for the first time who would get to see whatever version he wanted them to. The pressure to conform was gone. </p><p>What <em> did </em> he want everyone to see? He knew he was a take-charge guy, it came with the territory of his upbringing, and it had served him well. He liked to be seen as competent.</p><p>He liked people - he liked meeting everyone over the last few weeks, seeing how <em>different</em> people could be, and sharing anything he could offer them. He liked to be seen as welcoming and helpful.</p><p>And this new reality had already introduced him to so many new ideas, a new history, new books. He liked to be seen as open-minded and curious.</p><p>Patrick could be all of these things. They were him, after all - it was nothing new.</p><p>He sipped his wine, lost in thought until David pulled him out of his head.</p><p>“So - how <em> do </em> you want to be introduced?” He asked, quiet but direct.</p><p>Without giving much thought to a reply, he stepped toward David, sure and confident, his free hand finding the back of David’s head to pull him in close as he kissed him.</p><p>Patrick kept it chaste enough so that David wouldn’t pull away, but long enough for everyone nearby to notice. He liked to be seen with David.</p><p>***</p><p>David and Patrick hopped from group to group. Each time it became easier; Patrick felt himself smiling wider and standing more relaxed. Every time David snaked his arm around his waist or ran a hand through his hair or kissed his cheek, Patrick felt more sure of himself and that he belonged.</p><p>Roland and Ray pressed him for stories about life as a “robot” and Ted wanted details on how he and David had met. Jocelyn found out that Patrick liked to cook and started listing off her favorite recipes she would have to give him - they all seemed to involve a lot of cheese, but Patrick figured that might come in handy for David.</p><p>Patrick felt light and free; maybe it was the wine, or all the new people, or being so far from home.</p><p>He walked with David, hand in hand, toward the back of the living room, until he stopped short at the sight of Rachel.</p><p>She stood in a little circle with Alexis, Angie, and Jen, laughing at some joke the group was sharing. Someone had loaned her a dress, a long black gown made of silk, thin black straps at her shoulders. Her red hair tumbled in waves as she laughed, clutching at her stomach. </p><p>And maybe he could feel David tense up just a little when he saw her too, because it was plain to see she was stunning. Patrick reassured him by squeezing his hand, and led him toward the group.</p><p>Everything had happened so fast, he hadn’t even talked to Rachel since she had joined them during the escape. He needed to talk to her now.</p><p>“What’s so funny?” David prodded.</p><p>“Nothing,” Alexis tried to catch her breath.</p><p>“Are you laughing at me?” His voice grew a bit louder.</p><p>“David it’s not always about you!” </p><p>Patrick didn’t want to interrupt the sibling rivalry at hand, so he locked eyes with Rachel and gestured for her to follow him. They sat down on the stairs.</p><p>“You look amazing,” he smiled at her.</p><p>“You too,” she replied, pinching lightly at his shirt. “So much color.”</p><p>“So...you’re here,” Patrick laughed quietly.</p><p>She dropped her face into her hands. “I can’t believe I did that.”</p><p>“You surprised me, that’s for sure.”</p><p>“I guess you inspired me,” she said, looking up. “I just couldn’t play along. I saw what you were doing, and thought it was a way out for me, too.”</p><p>“It took me weeks to finally make that decision, but it was so quick for you. That’s pretty incredible.”<br/><br/>“I hope I didn’t make a mistake - I don’t think I did.”</p><p>“What did you tell your parents?”</p><p>“I left a note,” she replied, closing her eyes. “Not my best moment. I told them they’d know soon enough why I had to leave, and that I would be in touch.”</p><p>Patrick nodded slowly and met her eyes.</p><p>“And how have you been? Everyone here has been kind, I imagine?”<br/><br/>“Yeah, really great. I didn’t want you to feel like you needed to take care of me. It’s a lot of new, though. I can’t get over how free and loose they all are.”</p><p>Patrick looked around the room. “Yeah, I don’t know if I’ll ever get used to it. But I want to try.”</p><p>“So you and David…” Rachel started.</p><p>“Yes?”</p><p>“What’s that like? When you told me everything back at your safe house, you said you were ‘together.’ What does -  that mean, exactly?”</p><p>Patrick took a sip of his wine. He thought back to how David described it the first night they kissed.</p><p>“It’s like we’re matched, but by choice.” She looked at him, waiting for him to continue. “Yeah. And when I’m with him, I am just constantly in awe. He is so smart, so thoughtful, creative, strong - but it’s more than that, because he’s beautiful, and it’s always just this constant feeling of wanting <em> more </em> of him, to get closer, as close as I can. And for whatever reason he feels the same about me, and that may be the best part of all.”</p><p>He looked down at his hands.</p><p>“So, it’s like a love-match then?”</p><p>Patrick’s eyes darted up to meet Rachel’s.</p><p>“What?”</p><p>Rachel sighed. “When we were in school as teenagers, I had started to get close to Janet Clark, do you remember her?”</p><p>Patrick did - and he remembered a time when she and Rachel were together a lot, completing schoolwork at Rachel’s house, attending Patrick’s games, and walking together throughout town. He nodded.</p><p>“Yeah, well, we were pretty - fond of each other. Anyway, one day someone found a letter I had written to her, and I was called in to talk to a counselor at school. They interrogated me about the friendship until I was forced to say it was such a distraction that I wasn’t focusing on school or my future. Which, to be fair, was probably true.” She laughed softly.</p><p>“And yeah, they explained the evils of a love-match, and convinced me that there would be consequences if it continued. That was enough to scare me, so I kept to myself from then on.”</p><p>Patrick ached for her. He knew of stories like this - but this was the first time it was someone he knew. And he learned them all at a time before David, before he knew what it meant to want someone quite like that.</p><p>“I am so sorry that happened. I hope you know this now - but you weren’t doing anything wrong. If I’ve learned anything during my time with David, it’s that yes, it can be distracting, but it can also be motivating. I think - we make each other want to be better.”</p><p>He had known this was true for awhile now, but saying it out loud sent that warm feeling in his chest radiating out to his limbs. He looked out to find David in the crowd, and saw him still chatting with Alexis. He was smiling, a big wide grin that he rarely let out, and Patrick couldn’t tear his eyes away.</p><p>“That’s really lovely Patrick,” Rachel replied, placing a hand on his knee. “And yes, I think I can see that now.”</p><p>
  <b>***</b>
</p><p><b>David</b> </p><p>David had never thought of himself as particularly sentimental, but he caught himself pausing all evening to think about his luck. Somehow, some way, he had survived two years in that house. He had found Patrick - who left, and then returned to be with him. He had reunited with his family. Now, he got to spend time with all of them, safely tucked away, no more police patrolling right outside his door. So many family friends had made it to Jake’s, and even though they weren’t always David’s choice company, he wouldn’t change a thing.</p><p>The buzz he felt from the wine only relaxed him more as he sat on the couch curled up with Patrick. Stevie sat on the arm of the couch, drinking her wine straight from the bottle. She had been keeping her distance since they arrived - David would need to check on that later.</p><p>His father had coaxed his mother to bed after a few too many drinks, but the party kept on going.</p><p>“I cannot believe I forgot about this!” Jake appeared carrying a huge clunky record player and began to set it up. </p><p>It had been awhile since David had listened to any music. Mutt joined Jake with a crate full of records and began sifting through them.</p><p>“Peter, Paul, &amp; Mary, Dylan, Joni? What is this, a time capsule for the 1960s and ‘70s?”</p><p>“That’s what was here,” Jake replied. “Put on Joni.”</p><p>David could handle that. He heard the needle drop and the first track came through the tiny speakers Jake had set up, crackling a bit as the vocals picked up.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> I am on a lonely road and </em>
</p><p>
  <em> I am traveling, traveling, traveling, traveling </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Looking for something, what can it be? </em>
</p><p> </p><p>Patrick suddenly sat up straight, gripping David’s thigh tightly. “What is that?” He looked around the room.</p><p>“What?” </p><p>“That <em> sound</em>?”</p><p>David thought about it - had Patrick ever heard music before?  It was one of the many things the government had tried to erase from their history. David always had music in the home with his mother, a performer. Many of the people he knew off the grid played instruments and sang. Occasionally they would land somewhere that had recorded music - records or cassettes or CDs, and even sometimes the device for playing them. He took it for granted.</p><p>Patrick remained still, listening intently.</p><p>“Well, this is Joni Mitchell singing. We’re hearing it through that record player.”</p><p>“Oh," he replied softly. "My mom sang songs sometimes. But the other sounds - it’s so <em> rich</em>.”</p><p>“The instruments, yeah,” David explained weakly.</p><p>Patrick nodded, but he didn’t seem to be listening to David. So David kissed his head and stood up to refill drinks. </p><p>By the time he returned, after getting roped into a few conversations and sidetracked by Jocelyn’s Nanaimo bars, the B-side was playing and half the room had erupted into song -</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> On the back of a cartoon coaster </em>
</p><p>
  <em> In the blue TV screen light </em>
</p><p>
  <em> I drew a map of Canada </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Oh, Canada </em>
</p><p>
  <em> With your face sketched on it twice </em>
</p><p> </p><p>David watched Patrick’s lips move as he tried to sing along even though he didn’t know the words. When they got to the end of the album, Patrick sat back, looking dazed and exhausted.</p><p>“Wow.”</p><p>David made a mental note that if they all survived the next month, he would track down more music for Patrick.</p><p>While Jake looked through the crate to find another record, Alexis joined them on the couch, settling between the two of them and Stevie.</p><p>“So Patrick, tell me about Rachel,” Alexis propped her chin on her fist as she leaned over and looked at him eagerly.</p><p>David watched Stevie roll her eyes and leave her perch, joining Jake by the record player.</p><p>“What about her?” Patrick asked.</p><p>“She’s like, super cute, right?”</p><p>“I mean, yeah, you did a really nice job finding her a dress and everything.”</p><p>“Yeah…” Alexis trailed off. “But like, you were matched, right? What was that like?”<br/><br/>“Alexis, <em> stop</em>!” David warned. He was very uninterested in this line of questioning, and really didn’t want to hear what Patrick had to say either way.</p><p>“Alexis, it was like we were good friends. Best friends. That’s what it was like to be matched with Rachel,” Patrick explained simply.</p><p>“But did you guys ever like, kiss, or you know --”</p><p>“Alexis, I swear to <em> God!</em>” David growled.</p><p>To his surprise, Patrick just laughed and looked at David. “Um, no. No we did not. As I am sure you realize now, Rachel is not exactly my type.”</p><p>“Well that doesn’t mean anything. David’s into everybody.”</p><p>Patrick looked at him, puzzled. David shrugged. “I mean not <em> everybody</em>, but yeah.”</p><p>“Oh,” Patrick looked like he was processing that for a minute. “I guess I’m not. And I certainly can’t speak for Rachel.”</p><p>David turned toward his sister. “You know it’s funny, it’s almost like <em> I </em> found a nice boy from out there, and suddenly you’re just following in my footsteps and doing the same thing with Rachel.”</p><p>“Um, <em> no</em>, David, this has nothing to do with you - once again.”</p><p>“Actually,” Patrick chimed in, “I believe <em> I </em> found <em> you</em>.”</p><p>“Not the point,” David waved his hand dismissively. Patrick held back a smile.</p><p>Suddenly, they were assaulted by a woman tumbling between them over the back of the couch.</p><p>“Twy!” Alexis shrieked, helping her up.</p><p>“Sorry, sorry,” she choked out as she stood up. A wide grin stretched across her face. </p><p>“David! I haven’t seen you at all yet!” She leaned in for a hug as David politely patted her on the back.</p><p>“Maybe we should get you a snack, Twy.”</p><p>“Yes! Let’s go roast marshmallows!”</p><p>“We have marshmallows?” He looked at Alexis.</p><p>They followed Twyla outside and sure enough two teenagers sat on the grass around a fire pit.</p><p>“Hi boys, can we have some marshmallows?” Twyla joined them on the ground, cross-legged.</p><p>“Is that little Connor and Eric? When did you get so big?” Alexis asked.</p><p>“Yes, yes, ‘they grow up so fast,’” Connor returned sarcastically. “What can we do for you all?”</p><p>“I don’t love that tone,” David crossed his arms. “And where did you get that joint?”</p><p>“Roland,” Eric replied in monotone, staring into the fire.</p><p>David looked at Patrick to get his take on the disrespectful youths, but he was looking elsewhere, around the forest, up at the stars.</p><p>“Let’s get out of here,” David whispered, and took Patrick’s hand as he walked to the other side of the cabin, settling down on the grass.</p><p>They both sprawled on their backs, looking up at the sky.</p><p>“I’m surprised you're letting your clothes touch the ground,” Patrick turned to him with a smile.</p><p>“It’s all black and the ground is dry, they’ll be fine.”</p><p>“Mmm.”</p><p>“This is nice,” David whispered. “Even if it’s going to get more intense tomorrow.”</p><p>“I’ve never felt so free," Patrick replied. "But I'm not - not yet."</p><p>David didn’t want to ask, but he did. “Do you regret leaving?”</p><p>“What? No.” Patrick sat up; David followed. “David, once I met you, once I learned about everything, my old life was suddenly <em> empty</em>. This is where I’m supposed to be.”</p><p>“Yeah, but don’t they say ignorance is bliss?”</p><p>“I don’t care about that.”</p><p>David believed him - Patrick wasn’t one for the “what ifs” - he only cared about what was real and true. It was one of the many things David loved about him. Loved.</p><p>“What did your mother sing to you?” He asked, resting a head on Patrick’s shoulder.</p><p>“I don’t remember the words." He began to hum a tune, wrapping an arm around David’s waist. It was clear and smooth - how had David never heard it before? Patrick ran his thumb up and down David's hip, until stopping at his pocket.</p><p>“What’s this?” He pulled out a folded piece of paper, quickly swinging his arm back around to open it.</p><p>It took David too long, just a beat too long, to realize what it was. </p><p>“A love-match,” Patrick muttered quietly. </p><p>“What? I mean - you weren’t supposed to see that.” David felt his face heating up.</p><p>Patrick folded up the paper, then leaned in to kiss him softly. <em>Okay</em>.</p><p>They parted and Patrick smiled. “I love you too.” </p><p>David wanted to run away into the woods, or maybe just beg Patrick to say it again, but before he could do either one, Patrick's mouth was on his again, and David melted into it, the tension and weight of the moment suddenly gone, just like that.</p><p>They couldn't hide here forever, and tomorrow reality would set back in, but David took another moment to consider his luck, before he forgot everything and disappeared into Patrick’s kiss.</p><p> </p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0012"><h2>12. These Bars Are Filled With Things That Kill</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Sorry it took so long for this update. We're nearing the end!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p><p>
  <strong>Patrick</strong>
</p><p>Patrick woke up early, the light just beginning to peek in through the thin curtains draped across the window. He and David had managed to keep the same room, which he was eternally grateful for last night. </p><p>He watched David, motionless on his stomach and head laying heavy on the pillow. Patrick never did understand how he could sleep so soundly and for so long.</p><p>But Patrick was all nerves as he sat up. Last night had been great - a taste of what life could be like. Everyone so relaxed, happy to unwind and chat and drink and hug and laugh. The cabin felt like a tiny oasis, a bubble that was safe from the evils that had sent them all there in the first place. </p><p>And Patrick knew it had been the right thing to do, to really experience the good so he knew what they were fighting for and protecting, but he was ready to get down to business, and he hoped everyone else was on the same page.</p><p>He quietly slipped out of the room, shutting the door softly to give David a bit longer to sleep. When he turned around in the hallway he nearly walked right into Stevie.</p><p>They both froze. Stevie was wearing nothing but the checkered red flannel Jake had on last night, and Patrick had a pretty good idea what that meant. </p><p>He cleared his throat and whispered, “Uh- morning, Stevie.”</p><p>She threw a finger up toward his face. “Do <em> not </em> tell David.”</p><p>“Fine!” Patrick put his hands up in defense.</p><p>She brushed past him toward the bathroom, a hostility lingering that seemed like it came from something more than just getting caught with Jake.</p><p>“Hey, Stevie? Is everything okay?”</p><p>She opened the bathroom door and looked at him before stepping in. “I’m fine, just enjoying a little space from the people I’ve been crammed in a house with for two years, okay?”</p><p><em> Okay</em>, he thought. So she wasn’t fine, but certainly not in the mood to talk about it. He nodded politely and headed downstairs instead.</p><p>The party was definitely over. Mr. and Mrs. Rose stood at the kitchen island, drinking coffee and examining the same faded map he’d seen before.</p><p>Ray, Roland, and Ronnie huddled over the map on the other side of the island.</p><p>“Patrick! Good morning!” Mr. Rose greeted him.</p><p>“Hey,” he smiled, pulling up a stool.</p><p>“So it was you who found out about the plan with the kids?” Ronnie asked.</p><p>Patrick still felt like he was betraying - <em> someone </em> - but he nodded. “Yes. Central Government officers approached me a few days ago. And they’re moving fast.”</p><p>Roland clicked his tongue and shook his head. Ronnie closed her eyes.</p><p>“We will devise a plan,” Mrs. Rose chimed in, emphasizing each word with determination. “We collected everyone here because we <em> can </em> figure this out, or at least <em> attempt to</em>.”</p><p>Mr. Rose turned to him. “Patrick, is there anything you can think of that we can do? What would be the most effective approach here?”<br/><br/>Why were they asking <em> him</em>? He was a bit new to say the least.</p><p>As if reading his mind, Mr. Rose pressed on. “Look, we have the people, the skills, the money, and some connections. But <em> you </em> know how they think out there. This is our shot to show them the government is not on their side. How can we use this to convince them?”</p><p>Patrick thought about it. People were going to be horrified to lose their children. The government would have to rely heavily on force and propaganda to pull it off. If they could preempt that, maybe…</p><p>“We need to tell the public before the government spins it.” Patrick looked around. “I don’t know how to reach everyone and get that message out, but they need to know the facts. We need to give them the evidence.”</p><p>“That’s it,” Ronnie agreed, pointing at Patrick. She turned toward the stairs to yell - “Jake!” </p><p>Jake came barreling down, jeans hanging low on his hips, no shirt at all. </p><p>“What’s up?”<br/><br/>“The town closest to here - you’ve been spotting red suits?” Ronnie asked.</p><p>“Yeah, that’s what we’ve heard,” he confirmed.</p><p>“I am sure they are scouting locations for these new schools,” Patrick explained. </p><p>“I have a camera,” Ray offered. “And other equipment. We can try to get some of the buildings on film?”</p><p>The Roses nodded. </p><p>“And then what?” Roland asked, somewhat mockingly. “We can’t copy or reprint the photos. How’s anyone going to even see them?”</p><p>Mr. Rose turned to look at Patrick again, and he knew what he was thinking. He swallowed. “My dad, he works in Communications. He might be able to help with that.”</p><p>“He would do that?” Ronnie asked skeptically.</p><p>Patrick hesitated. Yes, he would help them, but it was a huge risk Patrick was volunteering him for. He hated to drag him in, but it was possibly their only option.</p><p>“Probably.”</p><p>“Okay, this is a start,” Mr. Rose clasped his hands together. “We should get some drivers out here to help with carrying messages and transporting people to and from town.”<br/><br/>As he got to work on that, Jake handed Patrick a coffee. He took a sip, cringing at the bitterness, when he felt arms wrapping around his waist from behind. He leaned back as David rested his chin on Patrick’s shoulder.</p><p>“Jake, my boyfriend prefers tea,” he called, and Patrick’s heart swelled.</p><p>“You got it,” Jake replied and began fixing Patrick’s drink.</p><p>“So what’d I miss?” David asked as Patrick spun around in his arms to face him. David grabbed the coffee from Patrick’s hand and took a long sip, eyes closed as he savored it.</p><p>“Well, we’re toying with the idea of getting some information out to the public - maybe getting some photos of the schools as proof.”</p><p>David stepped back. “That’s a bit dangerous. Who’s going?”</p><p>“I have the equipment, so I can go,” Ray stood up.</p><p>“You shouldn’t go alone,” Patrick countered. “I know what it’s like out there, I should probably help…”</p><p>“Absolutely not!” David yelled, shaking his head. “You’re wanted - they’re looking for you.”</p><p>Patrick couldn’t argue there. Disappearing from work, especially after the Central Government briefing - the police certainly had his name. And Rachel’s too.</p><p>“I - I could go,” David offered tentatively. Patrick’s stomach dropped.</p><p>“Son, you don’t have to do that. You need a little more experience, and one of us could help Ray,” Mr. Rose explained as he stepped toward David.</p><p>David looked toward the ground, thoughtful expression playing across his face.</p><p>“I actually think I could really help.” He looked at Patrick. “I have a good eye. I know Ray can photograph, but I think I can make sure he gets the most powerful shots. We want to persuade everyone, right? I can tell that story.”</p><p>Patrick racked his brain for something he could say to talk David away from this idea, but he couldn’t do it. David was right. He was the perfect one to help Ray. </p><p>“Okay, what are the safety measures going to be?” Patrick turned to Mr. and Mrs. Rose.</p><p>Mr. Rose looked like the wind had been knocked out of him. But he collected himself and met Patrick’s eyes. </p><p>“They’ll go tonight. Late, of course, when it’s fully dark. Wear dark clothes. We’ll send for a car.” He nodded to himself and then stepped outside.</p><p>Patrick looked around at everyone else. “That’s it? You do realize the streets are crawling with police. There’s probably a crew guarding whatever buildings they’re setting up in town.”</p><p>“I’ll go too,” Ronnie cut in. “I can be a lookout. And we’ll be armed, kid.” She looked at Patrick with a strange mix of condescension and reassurance. </p><p>“I want to go too. I’ll stay in the car.”</p><p>Ronnie rolled her eyes. “It’s your head,” she grumbled, and grabbed her coffee before heading upstairs.</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>David</b>
</p><p><em> Did he really volunteer to go snooping around a heavily guarded government building just so he could direct a photo shoot?  </em>Yes, apparently.</p><p>David felt like he really could contribute something here, and he felt good about it, but he was also pretty fucking scared.</p><p>The rest of the day was spent expelling nervous energy, fidgeting and roaming the house while periodically chatting with others about the plan.</p><p>Finally, it was time to change. All black - easy enough. But when he opened the bedroom door, eager to sift through his clothes, he instead found Stevie sitting on the bed, arms crossed and glaring.</p><p>“What are you doing, David?”<br/><br/>“I should be asking you,” he spat back.</p><p>“Why are you going on this mission? I know you’ve been more interested in the whole resistance thing, but this is a big jump. Why now?”</p><p>“Um, since things have changed out there and gotten particularly bad?”<br/><br/>“Ah, so they weren’t bad when they killed my parents?” </p><p>David froze, stung by Stevie’s icy tone.</p><p>“Wow, so that escalated quickly. I thought you were on board with this.”</p><p>“I was on board with getting out of that house. I was on board with escaping and hiding so we could survive. I wasn’t on board with picking up two robots and risking everyone’s lives to save a bunch of robot spawn.”</p><p>David’s head was swimming. He knew Stevie had been a little tense lately - he had no idea she was harboring this level of anger.</p><p>“So it’s about Patrick then is it?”</p><p>Stevie’s shoulders fell, her gaze drifting to her feet. “No, it’s not Patrick. He’s great. I mean - I think he’s great, it still hasn’t been that long.” Her eyes suddenly turned to David again.</p><p>“So, Rachel?” </p><p>“Maybe. I don’t know her. I don’t trust her. Why did we just take her with us?”</p><p>“She did help us through the checkpoint. And Patrick trusts her.”</p><p>Stevie nodded, rubbing her forehead in frustration.</p><p>“Yeah, it’s just, that’s a lot of trust in people we don’t know, and a lot of risk on their behalf. And now you’re heading out there? Why can’t we just stay here -  this place is great, we’re so secluded, your parents can get us whatever we need.” Her eyes were pleading, and David’s already weak resolve started to crack.</p><p>He took a deep breath. “If we were having this conversation a month ago, I’d probably agree with you. But things, they’ve changed for me. I’m done hiding. I want to start <em> doing </em> something. This whole thing - it’s fucked.” He clenched and unclenched his fists before regaining some composure. “It’s been bad to us, and it’s been bad to Patrick. He still doesn’t even know how bad. And now they’re after him because he chose to leave that life. And yes, for some reason I do care about the kids, and I care that Patrick cares, and I want to put an end to all of it.”</p><p>For a moment Stevie’s expression was soft, but then it hardened into anger.</p><p>“You really think you’re going to put an end to this? You’re going to get killed.”</p><p>“I’m going to be fine,” he replied softly, unsure himself. “I have to try.”</p><p>“Fine, go. Best wishes to you,” she called as she shot up and walked past him into the hallway.</p><p>***</p><p>David, Ronnie, and Ray huddled by the door, dressed head to toe in black. Ray wore a black backpack and a pouch around his waist. David’s foot tapped nervously as they waited to get going. Unfortunately, his father was slowing the process.</p><p>“Gather in, everyone, come on in here,” he beckoned with his hands. The house had all gathered in the kitchen now, ready to send the little crew off on their way.</p><p>His father smiled weakly as he looked around the room. </p><p>“It’s been a long time since we’ve done something like this. We’ve been doing good things - surviving, raising families, raising good people who know themselves.” He paused to clear his throat. “But I fear we’ve lost our way. There’s no getting around the fact that things are getting worse. It’s time to try again - to challenge this government. I couldn’t be more grateful to Patrick and Rachel for their help here - such a huge risk. And I am so proud of my son, David, for taking a leap and helping with the mission tonight.”</p><p>David closed his eyes, deeply uncomfortable with the compliment and the attention. He waited for his father to continue.</p><p>“Well, there’s no going back now, is what I’m trying to say. Let’s just be ready for next steps when everyone gets back.” He turned to face David. “Be safe.”</p><p>David nodded and waved awkwardly at the crowd in the kitchen. Stevie was already peeling herself away toward the stairs. He locked eyes with his parents and Alexis before spinning around to leave. Patrick hurried after him.</p><p>A car sat idling outside, ready to drive them all into town. Ronnie took the front seat as David, Ray, and Patrick squeezed into the back.</p><p>“I still don’t love that you’re coming,” David chastised gently. </p><p>“I’m just an extra set of eyes for lookout,” he reminded him, but David was still tense.</p><p>“It’s just they’re literally looking for you and we’re bringing you right into town, where there’s police and red suits - “</p><p>“David, I’ll be in the car the whole time. Please just start thinking about that story you’re going to tell with the photos.”</p><p>David nodded, trying to picture what he might find inside the buildings. He hoped he could anticipate enough to move quickly. There would probably be some living quarters, classrooms, offices, a cafeteria. David tried to think of Patrick’s pleasant memories from childhood, the ones he shared about his parents and the warmth of home. David needed to make sure he could paint a stark contrast to that.</p><p>They all sat quietly as the car drove along the bumpy dirt road through the woods until they hit the main freeway again, cruising more smoothly into town. They approached a town center and drove around slowly, looking for the right buildings.</p><p>There were some police patrolling the streets, though not as many as back home. The town center was smaller, though similar enough. </p><p>“There!” Patrick announced suddenly. He pointed at a building right along the road. A construction trailer was set up on the front lawn and the first floor windows were boarded up.</p><p>“They must be renovating this one,” he explained quietly. The car stopped.</p><p>“There’s no security at all,” Ronnie observed suspiciously. “This seems too easy.”<br/><br/>Everyone looked around - it was eerily quiet and absent of any police.</p><p>“Might not be that way for long,” the driver said evenly. “I’d go while you can.”</p><p>“Right,” Ray said, and opened his door to hop out. Ronnie followed.</p><p>David turned to Patrick, adrenaline and worry searing through him. “Don’t be a hero. You better be in this car when I get back.”</p><p>Patrick smiled and pulled him in for a kiss, before gently pushing him toward the door. “I’ll be here.”</p><p>“Okay, here goes nothing,” David replied, and hurried after Ronnie and Ray to find an entrance.</p><p>***</p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>Patrick</strong>
</p><p>Patrick watched them slip around the back of the building, and after that he could do nothing more than worry and keep an eye out for police. His knee bopped up and down nervously.</p><p>He tried to keep steady breaths. He thought about next steps. They would come back, and everyone could drive home. It was late - he and David could at least get some sleep for a few hours. His body relaxed at the thought of getting into bed.</p><p>Tomorrow Ray would arrange a makeshift darkroom and develop the photos. Patrick would hear back from his father and they could make their next move. Maybe he could help make fliers, or at least copy enough pictures for them to mail out to their contacts to distribute.</p><p>After that - Patrick didn’t know. His new little family might have to run again - once Central Government saw which town the photos were from, they might be found. He could handle life on the run, if he had to. If he was with David. He just hoped their plan would work.</p><p>Patrick’s knee began to bounce again. It had been awhile - maybe a half hour. They should have been back by now. He looked out the windows, looked behind him. There were still no police.</p><p>And then - a loud bang rang through the silence - a door slamming. It came from the building.</p><p>And then - Ronnie and Ray running at full speed toward the car, their driver shifting in his seat, sitting up straight and at the ready.</p><p>Where was David?</p><p>Ronnie and Ray hopped in, pulling their doors closed.<br/><br/>“Go, go, go!” Ronnie yelled, and the driver complied, spinning the car around and accelerating as he moved the car out of town.</p><p>“Ronnie, <em> where’s David</em>?” Patrick asked desperately. “What’s happening?”</p><p>“He was captured,” Ray replied, eyes wide as though he couldn’t believe it himself. “I’m sorry Patrick, it happened so fast.”</p><p>Patrick’s body went cold - his ears were ringing. It took him a full minute to realize Ray was still talking.</p><p>“ -- and we were running but someone just grabbed him, I don’t even know where they came from.”</p><p>“Red or black suit?” Ronnie asked.</p><p>“Red, I think,” Ray nodded to himself.</p><p>Patrick felt a deep, horrific sob choking him somewhere high in his chest. But he was also sick to his stomach. He wanted to be sick and he wanted to cry but instead he sat paralyzed in the back seat of the car as it sped through the night.</p><p>David was captured. Was David - no, he couldn’t go there, though it was the logical question and he knew the probable answer.</p><p>“Did you hear any - “ he swallowed, trying to keep his voice even “ - any gunshots?”</p><p>“I didn’t,” Ronnie said, looking back at Ray.</p><p>“No,” he shook his head. “I think they took him - alive.” He said the last word in a whisper, the whole thing too much for him.</p><p>Okay. That was something. The smallest, tiniest, speck of hope that would at least serve to keep Patrick breathing.</p><p>When the car pulled up to the cabin, Patrick steeled himself to face David’s family and friends, to share this unthinkable turn of events. His grief and fear were so deeply intense, but he was well-practiced at tucking it all away, being strong and competent, ready to take charge. </p><p>He took a deep breath and led the way into the kitchen. But when he saw Alexis and Mr. and Mrs. Rose, tired but expectant as they sat around the kitchen island, and watched their expressions fall as soon as they noticed David was missing - Patrick fell apart. </p><p>The sob finally escaped, loud and pained, and he crumpled to the ground, and everything went dark.</p><p>***</p><p>When Patrick woke up, he was in the same bed, the same room he had been sharing with David. There was someone sitting at the foot of the bed, and for a split second he thought maybe it had all been just a nightmare.</p><p>But he looked over and saw Rachel, looking soft in a sweater and jeans, studying him carefully.</p><p>Patrick sat up, rubbing his eyes.</p><p>“What do we do now?” He asked.</p><p>“Are you okay?” Rachel ignored him. “Here --” she leaned over and nudged the glass of water on the nightstand toward him.</p><p>Patrick shook his head. “No, I’m not okay, I need to <em> do </em> something.” He leapt from the bed and started pacing, unable to focus on any single thread of thought.</p><p>“They are working on it downstairs,” Rachel assured him. “You aren’t alone here.”</p><p>Patrick stopped moving. The last thing he remembered was the Roses - their faces strained with worry and fear. </p><p>“I can’t go down there. I - I can’t. I got David kidnapped. I may have gotten him killed.”</p><p>Rachel was already shaking her head. “You didn’t. He volunteered to go on that mission. It was always going to be risky. You and I, we know that better than anyone.”</p><p>“I was the one who told them about the government’s plan - that’s what got them all started on this mission in the first place. I said we needed evidence - that’s why David ended up in that car.”</p><p>Rachel shrugged. “It was the right thing to do.”</p><p>Patrick didn’t care about <em> right</em>, even if, for some reason, David’s family was that forgiving.</p><p>“Stevie’s going to kill me,” he muttered.</p><p>“I won’t argue there. She is pretty mad.”</p><p>Patrick ran a hand through his curls, even longer now as they covered his ears and fell across his eyes. Rachel stood and approached him, reaching up and running her own hands through his hair, tying it back with a rubber band from her wrist.</p><p>“I thought you were getting this cut,” she smiled.</p><p>Patrick exhaled a weak laugh, then looked at her. “I need to get him back.”</p><p>“I know,” Rachel nodded. “Come downstairs, I want to show you something.”</p><p>Patrick hesitated, but he followed her into the hallway, down the stairs and into the living room. It was quiet, but people seemed busy, writing letters and looking at their maps. Jen and Angie looked up from the couch and nodded sympathetically. Jake walked by and patted him on the shoulder.</p><p>He couldn’t stand it.<br/><br/>“What am I looking at?”</p><p>“In here.” Rachel opened the closet door at the foot of the stairs and stepped inside, so Patrick followed.</p><p>She flipped on the light, a dim exposed bulb glowing above them. Patrick could see a table with trays of liquid. Hanging above the table was a thread of twine, stretched across like a clothesline. Tiny clothespins held up the photos - David’s photos.</p><p>One looked like a hospital room, sterile and cold. Another looked like it was a stock room, huge barrels and boxes of generic canned food. One showed a room with rows and rows of tiny empty beds. A chill ran down Patrick’s spine - he could see what David had done. He got to the heart of it - all of the comforts of home - a parent applying a band-aid to a scraped knee, a home cooked meal, a cozy bed - the pictures revealed that these would be no more, that the place in these photos would be the new home for the country’s children, and it was not pretty.</p><p>“He did it,” Patrick breathed. </p><p>“Yeah, he did. Now you need to write to your dad, and figure out what to do with these.”</p><p>All Patrick wanted to do was find David, but he knew this was part of the plan too. </p><p>“Okay - I’m going to go write this upstairs. Can you find me some pen and paper?”</p><p>***</p><p>Patrick had put the finishing touches on his letter when his door burst open, Stevie charging in.</p><p>“Just going to hide from me forever, are you Brewer?”</p><p>“Stevie, I’m so sorry --” he began.</p><p>“I <em> told </em> him not to go. I <em> told </em> him it was a bad idea.”</p><p>“I didn’t want him to go either. He - wanted to try. He’s been trying so much more, you know? How could I stop him?”</p><p>And Stevie looked at him with a frustrated expression, because she knew David had changed, and she knew it was good for him. But she was scared and heartbroken, just like Patrick.</p><p>He took a deep breath. “Here,” he said, offering her the letter. “What do you think?”</p><p>She took it and read it, eyes narrowed, then huge. And then she read it again.</p><p>“Are you sure this is a good idea?”</p><p>“What choice do we have?” Patrick asked.</p><p>She only nodded before returning the letter. </p><p>“Will you help me, Stevie?”</p><p>***</p><p>As soon as Patrick got the go ahead from his father, the plan was in motion.</p><p>Patrick smoothed a hand over the front of his suit, placed his cap over his curls, pulled back with the rubber band. He stepped downstairs, and said his goodbyes to the Roses, to Rachel, to Roland and Jocelyn, to Ray and Ronnie and Karen, shook Jake’s hand, gave a hug to Angie and nodded to Jen and Jason. He pulled Stevie in for a hug and whispered, “You’ve got this, right?” </p><p>“Yes,” she said firmly. “Just go find him, okay?”</p><p>And out the door he went. There was no car. It was early morning, with a mild chill. Patrick set off into the forest, walking along the dirt road, keeping a steady pace as he headed into town.</p><p>Hours later, he found himself in the town square, bustling with people dressed just like him. He passed the building where he had lost David, watching construction workers moving about the grounds.</p><p>Patrick kept walking until he found a café and settled in, ordering himself a tea. He sat back and waited.</p><p>After two and a half more cups of tea, the café door swung open. A red suit entered, flanked by two police.</p><p>“Patrick Brewer? You are under arrest for desertion and treason.”</p><p>The police officers each grabbed an arm, dragging him to his feet.</p><p>Patrick locked eyes with the red suit and smirked. “How did you find me?”</p><p>“Your father turned you in.”</p><p>And with that, Patrick was escorted from the café into the black van parked outside.</p><p> </p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0013"><h2>13. We Are Nowhere and It's Now</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>It's done!!</p><p>This is the final chapter as outlined, but I wrote a short epilogue that I'll share this weekend. </p><p>Thanks for reading and Happy New Year!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <b>David</b>
</p><p>David sat in the dark interrogation room feeling sore and tired. He wasn’t really even scared anymore.</p><p>The blindfold had come off an hour before. Miraculously, someone dropped off a glass of water, but David didn’t dare drink it.</p><p>Finally, a red suit entered the room and sat across from him at the table, opening a folder.</p><p>“David Rose,” he said, not looking at David, eyes fixed on the documents as he flipped through. “I am told you’ve been rather uncooperative with us.”</p><p>David pressed his lips together, committed to keeping quiet.</p><p>“You know, David, we usually just eliminate lawbreakers. You were trespassing. We could have shot you right then and there.” His eyes met David’s then. “Do you know why we didn’t?”</p><p>David didn’t respond, but held his gaze.</p><p>“We know who you are, David. We know of your family and their influence over the years. We know they’ve used their wealth to pay off our own police, we know they have recruited our Citizens to their cause, such as it is.”</p><p>David felt his throat go dry. It wasn’t surprising, exactly, but he suddenly realized any <em> facade </em> of safety he had allowed himself to believe existed for his family was just that; they were never really off the grid.</p><p>“I am not asking you to give up your parents, David. What I’m asking for is information. You will tell us why you were in that building. And you will provide a list of your contacts so we know who has been betraying us.”</p><p>David’s wrists were bound in front of him. He placed them on his lap and leaned back, staring at his interrogator defiantly. He wasn’t an idiot - giving away any contact information would leave his family for dead; absolutely no more protection, communication, supplies. He remained silent.</p><p>“You will tell me. Otherwise, we will kill Patrick Brewer.”</p><p>It was like a punch to his stomach, all breath knocked out of him. David steadied himself, trying to keep an even expression.</p><p>He wasn’t sure what they knew about Patrick, or his connection to him, but he refused to take the bait.</p><p>“We have him in custody as we speak.”</p><p>And then David shot up, his chair crashing behind him. “You’re lying!”</p><p>The red suit smiled. “I’m not. We just want information.”</p><p>“Bullshit! Whatever I tell you, you’ll kill me anyway.”</p><p>“But what if we don’t? Seems like a poor gamble on your part.”</p><p>“I’m done talking to you.” David remained standing, but leaned back against the wall, eyes closed.</p><p>***</p><p>
  <b>Patrick</b>
</p><p>The cell was just big enough to hold a tiny cot. There were no windows, but a small opening across the door at eye level allowed a sliver of light into the room.</p><p>Patrick paced back and forth as best he could in the small space, trying to think of his next move.</p><p>If David was still alive, he was somewhere in here. He tried not to think too hard about what that looked like and what he had probably been through. </p><p>On the other side of the walls, he heard doors slam, soft voices, footsteps. He peered through the narrow opening.</p><p><em> David</em>.</p><p>An officer walked him down the hall, blindfolded and wrists bound in front. A sickly mix of relief and anger and pain swirled inside him. And something else, something like - <em> pride</em>?</p><p>Despite the position he was in, David walked tall, chin up and surprisingly composed. After everything, he looked <em> strong</em>. Patrick watched in awe as they marched on by his cell, disappearing from his vision far too soon.</p><p>Patrick let out what felt like his first exhale in days. David was alive. God, he looked so brave. Patrick instantly drew strength from it.</p><p>He let his mind wander back in time, to one of his favorite places, perched on the fire escape, watching David savor his first taste of fresh air in years. Patrick remembered the overwhelming feeling of wanting to save him, to free him from that house, and the melancholy that had trapped him.</p><p>Patrick had helped to free him once - he could do it again.</p><p>
  <b>***</b>
</p><p>
  <b>Stevie </b>
</p><p>As soon as Patrick was out the door, Stevie was on the move, running up the stairs, skipping every other step and nearly tripping in the process.</p><p>“Ray, Rachel, Alexis - follow me, please!” she called back with urgency.</p><p>She threw open the bedroom door, the room she had been sharing with Rachel and Alexis. Alexis’ bags and clothes and shoes had seemed to explode across the room. Stevie began tossing things in piles, searching for her own bags.</p><p>This would be fine. David would be fine. She’d get to their old town, meet Clint, hand over the photos. He could take it from there. She could get the copies and bring them back to send out. It was a lot of moving, but it would keep her occupied.</p><p>David would be fine.</p><p>Alexis and Rachel appeared in the doorway.</p><p>“Stevie, what’s going on?” Alexis asked.</p><p>Stevie didn’t look up, but continued gathering her things, packing a small bag haphazardly.</p><p>“Stevie?!”</p><p>“I’m delivering the photos to Patrick’s dad.”</p><p>“Umm, so I don’t love that -” Alexis tried. “Let’s maybe talk to everyone downstairs about this? We’ve already lost -”</p><p>“We haven’t lost anyone. Patrick’s taking care of it. And I’m taking care of this.”</p><p>“What about the checkpoint? You can’t get back into town.” Alexis challenged.</p><p>Stevie's thoughts went back to Patrick’s letter. “Patrick’s dad should be calling in a favor for us. He - um - is going to have a lot of leverage with the government right now. Gave them something they wanted.”</p><p>Alexis looked at her, puzzled, but put an end to that particular line of questioning. “Well, you can’t go alone, you’ve never done anything like this before!”</p><p>“I’m not,” Stevie replied, finally looking at her. “Rachel’s coming with me.”</p><p>Alexis’ eyes went wide as she snapped her head toward Rachel, whose expression looked neutral.</p><p>“Patrick’s suggestion,” Stevie added.</p><p>Rachel nodded and began to move as well, packing her own bag.</p><p>“Okay, okay, everyone chill for a second.” Alexis’ voice had gone high, clearly tense from the whole ordeal.</p><p>Stevie didn’t have the patience for it.</p><p>“Alexis - I am <em> so</em>, so close to backing out of this whole thing. I do not have it in me to slow down, to argue, to convince anyone. If I’m gonna do this, I’ve gotta go <em> now</em>.”</p><p>“Ughh,” she growled in response, but Stevie knew she was resigned to the plan. “Okay fine, but I have like, way more experience with covert operations, so let me at least help.”</p><p>“Help how?” Stevie asked, one hand on her hip.</p><p>“Rachel is like, a wanted woman out there. If she’s going back into town somewhere she should be disguised.”</p><p>Alexis had surprised her, once again.</p><p>“Okay, yeah, good idea.”</p><p>“Rach,” Alexis began, walking over to her slowly. “I do love your gorgeous red hair, but maybe that’s something we can change, just for this?” Alexis began running her fingers through Rachel’s hair, as though she was convincing herself instead of Rachel.</p><p>Stevie rolled her eyes.</p><p>“Yeah, okay,” Rachel agreed.</p><p>***</p><p>An hour later, Stevie was in the living room, bag packed and waiting for Rachel and the car. Ray had gathered some equipment for her to bring in case it could help - his camera and some recording devices. He wrote down some instructions and placed everything in a separate bag.</p><p>Suddenly heads turned as Alexis ushered Rachel downstairs. She had done good work - Rachel’s hair was jet black and cut short, just long enough to pin behind her ears. Rachel wore her grey suit, cap, and a pair of thick rimmed black glasses that took over the tiny features of her face. </p><p>“She’s still super cute, but it should disguise her if you’re moving fast,” Alexis explained, looking proudly at her work.</p><p>“Car’s here,” Jake called from the kitchen. Stevie stood up, locked eyes with Rachel, then turned to leave.</p><p>“Whoa, whoa there,” Mr. Rose called. Stevie groaned. She wasn’t good with heartfelt goodbyes or pep talks.</p><p>He pulled her close into a hug, while Mrs. Rose looked on fondly.</p><p>“You know,” he began. “We raised you kids to keep you safe and protected from all this. Now, suddenly you’re the ones doing all the legwork.” He smiled sadly.</p><p>“You did a good job then,” Stevie laughed uncomfortably. She looked at him then, and reached for another hug. </p><p>“Your parents, they would be so, so proud,” he said. </p><p>Stevie wiped her eyes. “No, they wouldn’t be.” Mr. Rose looked only slightly surprised, but kept his expression steady. </p><p>Stevie spun around, Ray’s bag slung across her shoulders and her own backpack. Alexis and Rachel’s heads were bent together as they whispered their private goodbyes, and then Rachel was moving, following Stevie out the door.</p><p>***</p><p>The car ride was long, but Stevie stayed as quiet as possible as she looked out the window from the back seat. Rachel sat next to her, maintaining an amicable silence herself. For awhile.</p><p>“Stevie, I know you aren’t too happy with having me around.”</p><p>Oh, <em> God</em>.</p><p>“It’s fine.”</p><p>“Well, I know you don’t really trust me, or Patrick, but -”</p><p>“I trust Patrick. Patrick has earned my trust.”</p><p>“Oh.”</p><p>Stevie hoped that would put an end to it. She didn’t hate Rachel, but her instinct was to hold her cards close, especially when it came to outsiders. When Patrick had visited the Safe the first time, Stevie had seen something there - his longing for answers, a genuine curiosity, and a healthy fear of it all. He had the password, and his mother was one of them. It was enough for her to give him a few answers, and she felt safe doing it.</p><p>Now, things had completely unraveled. David and Patrick were so love-struck they were both making reckless decisions. Alexis was entirely smitten with Rachel, but as far as Stevie was concerned, she was just a stranger. Everyone seemed to be throwing away all sense of self-preservation. But here she was now, doing the same.</p><p>“I hope I might earn it, too,” Rachel offered. “Your trust. I swear, I’m on your side now.”</p><p>“Okay,” Stevie replied, but she shifted as much as she could toward the window.</p><p>***</p><p>They arrived mid-morning, the car pulling up to a massive building just outside of town. </p><p>“Clint should be down here at 12:30,” Stevie announced. She felt inside Ray’s bag for the photos, hoping for a quick handoff.</p><p>Sure enough, at 12:30 exactly, the double-doors swung open and Clint emerged and briskly approached the car.</p><p>“Stevie, and Rachel, hi! Come on out girls.”</p><p>Stevie hesitated but she stepped out, feeling extremely exposed - an open target in her blue flannel and jeans. </p><p>“Let’s go upstairs,” Clint waved, already moving back toward the building.</p><p>“Um, hello?” Stevie called, gesturing her hand toward her clothes</p><p>Rachel suddenly appeared behind her, and grabbed her wrists together at her back.</p><p>“What the <em> fuck</em>?”</p><p>“Calm down, it’s just for show,” Rachel assured her. Clint nodded and the three headed upstairs.</p><p>Clint had some serious clearance - he had keys and key cards that allowed them to take the elevator and then snake through the maze of hallways until they ended up in a section crawling with security and police.</p><p>Stevie thought she may have stopped breathing. Her heart pounded so loud she could hear it ringing in her ears.</p><p>Rachel continued to hold her wrists back, lightly pushing her forward as they followed Clint, who finally stopped at a heavily guarded door.</p><p>He gingerly pulled out his ID card, when one of the guards cleared his throat.</p><p>“Uh, sir, are you sure they can come in with you? They don’t have clearance.”</p><p>“I’m taking this one to see the police,” he nodded at Stevie, “But there’s no way I am leaving her out here. I just need to run something off real quick.”</p><p>The guard hesitated but nodded, resuming his position. Clint opened the door and shut it behind them.</p><p>First, he moved to a keypad at the door and began programming something.</p><p>Then he turned to Stevie. “What do we have?” </p><p>She pulled out the photos, which Clint took and examined closely.</p><p>“Wow,” he breathed. </p><p>“So, how do we make copies?” Stevie and Rachel both looked around. The walls were covered with screens, the perimeter of the room lined with various controls and outlets and plugs that Stevie couldn’t possibly recognize.</p><p>“I’m gonna do us one better.” </p><p>Clint fed the photos into a thin drive, and Stevie watched as the images appeared on one of the screens in front of her.</p><p>She swallowed. “Okay, what are we doing here?”</p><p>Clint shifted toward a keyboard and began typing - text ran across the screen. He clicked around some more, then hit one more button with a flourish.</p><p>“That should do it.”</p><p>“Do <em> what</em>?”</p><p>“Those photos are going to be broadcast on the national feed. They’re now entering the home of every Citizen and every shop or café with a monitor.”</p><p>Suddenly, someone began pounding loudly on the door.</p><p>“Really, Clint?” Rachel asked, looking around, panicked. “Why did you bring us up here for this?”</p><p>“You’re going to watch things in here, make sure the feed keeps on going. I’ll go talk to them out there.”</p><p>“They’re going to shoot you,” Stevie argued.</p><p>Clint looked at her. “They won’t. I’m telling them this was all you.”</p><p>“<em>What</em>?”</p><p>Clint unsnapped a few suit buttons, reached into his jacket, and pulled out a handgun.</p><p>“Are you kidding me right now?” Stevie cried.</p><p>“Relax,” Clint smiled, just a bit, and tossed the gun to Rachel, who caught it expertly.</p><p>“Stevie,” he continued, “they think I turned Patrick in. Well, I did, but you know that was the plan. I’m in very good standing with the red suits in town. I’ve recoded the door lock - they aren’t getting in. You’ll watch things in here, and I’ll try to distract them so more people can see those photos for longer.”</p><p>Stevie’s head was swimming - this didn’t seem to have an actual endgame, but what choice was there?</p><p>Suddenly, she had a thought, and reached into Ray’s bag.</p><p>“Here,” she offered. “This records sound. Maybe you should have it on, while you talk to them out there?”</p><p>Clint looked at the tiny recording device. Stevie clicked it on and he threw it in his pocket. </p><p>“Worth a shot.” And with that, Clint slid his way out the door, slamming it shut behind him, yelling and feigning terror at the women inside who took over the system.</p><p>Stevie turned around to watch the feed, a slow loop of David’s photos - cold empty rooms, closets for tiny uniforms, rows of little beds, each photo fading into the next.</p><p>***</p><p>
  <b>David</b>
</p><p>David knew that time was running out, one way or another. He still wasn’t sure if he believed them about Patrick; but they were continuing to threaten him and urging David to talk. If this was real, they wouldn’t let it go on forever.</p><p>Sitting in his cell, on the tiny cot, David considered what he would do if Patrick was really captured, if his life was really in David’s hands. He couldn’t betray his family. But how could he betray Patrick? </p><p>He felt a wave of guilt crash over him; why did he have to let Patrick get caught up in this at all? David was so taken with him when they met, and he wanted him to stay - it was selfish. He should have sent him back, let him live his normal life with Rachel.</p><p>Instead, they had fallen in far too deep, and now they were paying for it. David had come to the decision quickly that he could sacrifice himself. He’d rot in this prison forever and keep his family’s connections safe. Keep the plan hidden for just a bit longer.</p><p>But with Patrick in the mix, he just wasn’t sure. He had to know.</p><p>David stood up and began to kick the door, calling for his guards.</p><p>“I’m ready to start talking.”</p><p>The red suit he’d been dealing with approached soon after, peering at David through the narrow opening in the door.</p><p>David glared. “Prove it to me - I want to see him.”</p><p>“That’s all? And then you’ll talk?”</p><p>David exhaled long and hard. “Yes.”</p><p>Just then, the red suit’s face turned toward a sound down the hall.</p><p>“What is it?” He called. There was with a muffled response David couldn’t understand - then a deep sigh as the red suit muttered profanities under his breath.</p><p>“I need to deal with something in the lobby, but we’ll arrange this <em> very </em> brief viewing for you. Then, you’re talking.” He moved away, calling distractedly to the guards, “Bring him out!” as he left the hallway.</p><p>To David’s surprise, his own door opened. A guard muscled his way in to bind his hands at the front, then shoved him out the door, walking him down the hallway.</p><p>And then, around the corner, he saw Patrick. He wore his grey suit, cap askew on his head. He was blindfolded as another guard walked him toward David. Both stopped before they could get too close.</p><p>“Now what?” Patrick’s guard called.</p><p>“He wanted this one to see him,” his own guard shrugged.</p><p>David’s thoughts began to race. They weren’t lying. Patrick was here. Now David was expected to talk. He’d give up the plan, his family’s protection, and then what? They’d be freed? There was no way.</p><p>He looked at Patrick, right there in front of him - he was so close. <em> They </em> were so close - they had overcome so much already. Was this how it would all end?</p><p>“David? Is that you?” Patrick called to him.</p><p>And that was it.</p><p>“Fuck this.” David pulled a leg back, in between the guard’s so he could hook it around his knee, throwing him off balance instantly. David shifted his whole torso, wrists still bound, reaching for the guard’s handgun at his hip. He managed to grab it, elbowing him in the chin, toppling him over. </p><p>He pointed the gun at the guard across from him, but Patrick, in all the commotion, must have heard, and had wrestled the weapon from his own guard and knocked him out. Which, to be honest, was incredibly hot and also impressive considering he was blindfolded. David shook that thought away and moved toward Patrick, carefully prying the covering from his eyes while still clutching the gun.</p><p>Their eyes met. They kissed desperately, messily, and a bit awkwardly with their wrists still bound. Patrick pulled away and looked at him, breathless and smiling. “I was here to save <em> you.</em>”</p><p>“Hmm. Remember when you mocked the idea of me handling a gun?”</p><p>They turned and moved quickly through the hallway, unsure what they might find in the lobby. </p><p>It was empty. More specifically - it was recently abandoned. David crept over to the reception desk - a steaming hot tea and a sandwich sat untouched. A few bags were left on the chairs in the waiting area.</p><p>“David - look.”<br/><br/>Patrick pointed up at the monitor on the wall. </p><p>David watched the photos Ray had taken, one after the other, fade in and out on the screen. He was instantly brought back to that building, empty and quiet, chilling in its clear purpose of pushing conformity - further removing any individuality or personality from the people out there. He hoped it came across in these images, and that it left people with the same uneasy feeling.</p><p>There was text added beneath, a simple message: “Central Government plans to take your children. Don’t let them.”</p><p>David turned to Patrick, mouth still agape watching the screen.</p><p>“Did you know about this?” David asked.</p><p>“Rachel and Stevie were bringing the photos to my dad. I didn’t know - no, not this.”</p><p>“<em>Stevie</em>?” </p><p>“Yeah...she agreed to help when I told her I was coming here, for you.”</p><p>“Oh God, do you think she’s okay?”</p><p>Patrick’s expression was not comforting. “We should go.”</p><p>They worked together to remove their wrist ties, pocketed their weapons, and cautiously stepped through the doorway and into the street.</p><p>It was chaos.</p><p>Across the town green they could see the building, the one that would be used for the new school. A massive crowd had gathered, their shouts carrying across the square. There were people running towards it, completely ignoring David and Patrick as they stood still, taking the scene in.</p><p>David knew they should get out of there, use this free moment to escape, but he started walking, then running toward the crowd. As they got closer, they could see it - two red suits standing on the front steps, arms gesturing wildly to calm the angry mob. But it wasn’t working. David saw whole families, adults clutching their children, and even police among the throngs of people.</p><p><em> This is good</em>, he told himself - but it wasn’t over. “Let’s go back to the cabin.”</p><p>So the two men, reunited once again, began the long walk home. David clutched Patrick’s hand, determined to keep him close.  </p><p>Hours later, when they emerged from the wooded dirt road, sweaty and disheveled, a car was already waiting. </p><p>***</p><p>
  <b>Stevie</b>
</p><p>Minutes after Clint left, things got louder outside. Stevie could hear the voices and clamor of people moving around. She always knew it was a possibility her life could be cut short - but she didn’t quite expect it to happen under these circumstances.</p><p>“Well I didn’t see this coming when we left the cabin,” Rachel spoke up, echoing Stevie’s thoughts. </p><p>To her surprise, she let out a small laugh. </p><p>“I wonder what’s going on out there,” Rachel continued.</p><p>“Trying to find a way in here, I’m guessing.”</p><p>“Yeah, but I mean - David and Patrick.”</p><p>Stevie looked at her feet. She had been trying not to think too hard about that side of things. But she was terrified.</p><p>“You and David, obviously you’re very close?” Rachel asked, even though it was really a statement.</p><p>“We were raised together, so he’s like my brother,” Stevie replied softly as she scuffed her foot along the floor. “But he’s also my best friend.”</p><p>Rachel hummed. “I suppose it’s similar with Patrick and I. Although since he found David and the rest of you, I’ve wondered if I ever knew him at all.”</p><p>Stevie’s head shot up, looking at Rachel. “What’s that supposed to mean?”</p><p>“I don’t know,” Rachel started, hesitating. “Obviously he had all kinds of doubts about his life, his purpose - he had this <em> curiosity </em> that brought him to you all. We’re not raised to think that way, so it’s still a little surprising when I think back on our time together. If he thinks his life was such a farce, what does that say about me?”</p><p>“Okay, but Patrick’s always <em> been </em> Patrick,” Stevie countered gently. “It’s them -” she gestured vaguely toward the door “- they tried to keep him hidden, and mold him into something he wasn’t. He’s just a lot stronger than the other robots out there. And, honestly, he talked about you and his family so fondly it kind of pissed me off.”</p><p>Rachel laughed, looking a bit more relieved. Stevie thought about what she had told her, and realized she maybe needed to go a step further, even though sincerity made her want to curl up on the floor.</p><p>“And I think you have always been you, too, Rachel, which is why you were strong enough to leave, and to help us. And I’m sure to some degree, Patrick saw that in you, and you saw it in him, and that’s why you were always close.”</p><p>“Thanks, Stevie,” Rachel smiled. “That helps.”</p><p>Stevie nodded and tried to stand a bit straighter. “Well, let’s just hope we all somehow get out of this mess. What do you think Clint’s plan is anyway? He can’t hold them off forever.”</p><p>And then Stevie heard a beeping sound coming from Ray’s bag, and a muffled voice shouting her name.</p><p>“Stevie! Rachel! Can you hear me?”</p><p>Stevie grabbed the bag and dug around until she found a second recording device, just like the one she had given to Clint. Hands shaking, she found Ray’s written instructions and fumbled with the equipment until she was speaking directly into the recorder, in real time, talking to Clint.</p><p>“Hi - yeah, we’re here.”</p><p>“Listen Stevie, this was a good idea. I’ve just had a rather incriminating conversation with some leadership out here, and I need you to add that conversation to the feed.”</p><p>“I don’t know how to do that!”</p><p>“What leadership?” Rachel asked.</p><p>“Top cabinet,” Clint replied grimly. “There were some officials nearby and they were sent directly here once we started the feed.”</p><p>“Well that can’t be good,” Stevie mumbled.</p><p>“Wait - how come they haven’t shut down the feed through one of the other Communication centers?”</p><p>“Because they can’t get into those control rooms. It seems like resistance groups all over the country have used their own contacts and favors and maybe force to start protecting the feed.”</p><p>“Holy shit,” Stevie breathed, eyes wide as she and Rachel exchanged glances.</p><p>“Anyway we’ll have time for this later, I hope, but listen carefully Stevie. I am going to play this conversation for you here, you’re going to record it, and you need to upload it. Can you do that?”</p><p>“Um, probably not!” Stevie looked at the controls and screens and keys in front of her, not sure where she would even start.</p><p>“Yes you can,” Clint assured her. “First, I need you to hit the record button.”</p><p>***</p><p>
  <b>Patrick</b>
</p><p>Mr. Rose was dragging bags out of the cabin, moving quickly toward the car. When he saw David and Patrick, he dropped everything to embrace them in a three-way hug.</p><p>“You got out! I can’t believe it!”</p><p>They hugged him tightly in return until David pulled back. “Where are you going?”</p><p>“We’re going back to the old town. I don’t know the situation exactly, but we think they might need some backup.”</p><p>“Rachel and Stevie?” David asked, fear raising the pitch of his voice.</p><p>“We assume they’re involved, yes. Last we heard there was someone in the control center, locked in to keep the photos playing.”</p><p>Patrick dropped his head to breathe. This meant Stevie and Rachel, and his father, could still be alive. Clearly they accomplished the mission with the photos - but Patrick hadn’t been sure what would happen after that.</p><p>“We have to go with you.”</p><p>Mr. Rose looked at him, a look that said a thousand things at once, but mainly <em> Of course, whatever you want, you saved my son’s life</em>. He nodded.</p><p>“Okay. Moira and the others can take the next car. There’s going to be a lot of happy people in there when they see you, but we should probably get moving.”</p><p>Sure enough, they were greeted with cheers and hugs and a tearful Mrs. Rose. They hurried to pack some bags and were off, on the move once again.</p><p>***</p><p>It was a long car ride. Patrick leaned into David, whose arm wrapped around his shoulders, pulling him in close. They were both filthy, having been jailed for days and in such a rush to pack that they didn’t even change. Neither of them seemed to care, even David.</p><p>Patrick was eager to get to town, to help his friends and family, but he was finally letting himself appreciate that he had David back. Finding him and losing him, over and over again - Patrick’s heart couldn’t take it anymore. </p><p>His head relaxed against David’s chest. He let his thoughts wander away from the task at hand, whatever they were walking into when their car arrived in town; instead he thought about <em> after</em>, a future, a life with David - if he could have it.</p><p>What could that look like in this world? He couldn’t picture it. Patrick couldn’t work his government job anymore, even if he really wanted to. He never minded it - the work with the government clients was usually a bit standard, but he liked working with the smaller businesses and shop owners. The more he thought about it, they were the closest thing to creative minds he encountered in his former life. That was of course before he met the most creative person he knew: David.</p><p>He wondered what David could do in this imaginary life in the future. Patrick pictured David beautifying the town, people hiring him to bring the drab world out there back to life. He imagined David opening some sort of center or shop to display all the beautiful art he always seemed to find and arrange. Or maybe opening a café with the most perfect ambiance, a place for people to eat and drink and read - David would know what to do.</p><p>Patrick was wrested from his fantasy when the car approached the checkpoint that Rachel had helped them through during their first escape. He wasn’t sure what they would encounter here, but certainly not this.</p><p>It was empty. The tall gate was open, but partially bent and mangled, like a car had busted it open. A few abandoned security vehicles remained parked on either side of the fence. No people were in sight.</p><p>Patrick felt a prickly sensation sprawl across his skin. Sure, it was good they could get through the gate. The reaction to the photos and the government plan was also a positive. But the breakdown of <em> order</em>, even knowing that order was built on fear and violence and control - it rattled him.</p><p>David tightened his arm around Patrick’s shoulders knowingly as the driver continued through the gate.</p><p>***</p><p>The scene in the town square of Patrick’s hometown looked much like the one by Jake’s cabin. The driver brought them to the Communications building, which was swarming with people. Patrick had expected a larger police presence if they were trying to get to the hijacked control room.</p><p>Mr. Rose, Patrick, and David carefully stepped out of the car, grabbing their bags and looking around for familiar faces. Then, a black van pulled up behind their car, and the crowd in front of the building began to part. </p><p>Patrick looked on in utter confusion as two red suits and several police marched down the steps escorting another red suit, forcing him into the van. The scene was repeated twice more to the loud cheers and yells of the people.</p><p>“What the hell is going on?” David whispered.</p><p>“Guys! Up here!” The three men looked up at the open double-doors to see Stevie poking her head out.</p><p>In no time they were in the lobby, hugging Stevie while she laughed and brushed them off, but Patrick could hear her whispered apologies to David. They followed her as she deftly navigated the route up to a conference room, where she ushered them in and shut the door.</p><p>Patrick looked at the long table in front of him - several red suits, Alexis and Rachel (who he barely recognized), and other men and women in grey suits, including his father, who smiled broadly when they came in.</p><p>One of the red suits looked at the three of them and sighed, not angry but perhaps annoyed at the interruption. He waved at them to sit.</p><p>His father spoke up. “Thompson, that’s my son, Patrick, and that’s Johnny Rose and his son David.”</p><p>Thompson’s eyes darted to Mr. Rose.</p><p>“Rose? Good God, you’ve been giving us grief for years.”</p><p>Mr. Rose looked uncomfortably at Patrick’s father and then at Thompson, who seemed overwhelmed.</p><p>Patrick finally spoke up. “Anyone want to tell us what’s going on here?”</p><p>There was some quiet laughter. “How much catching up do you need?” His father asked.</p><p>David cut in. “Start with the red suits that were just dragged into a van outside. Start with that.”</p><p>“Have you seen the feed that’s been broadcasting, David?” Stevie asked.</p><p>“We saw it back at the prison right after we escaped,” he replied. Some grumbling floated among the red suits in the room.</p><p>“So not the most recent version, then,” Rachel confirmed. She pointed toward the monitor in the room with her chin, and began turning up the volume. Patrick spun around to look.</p><p>It was the same loop of photos and text, but the audio playing over the images sounded like part of a recorded conversation.</p><p> </p><p><em>"I</em> <em>f anyone thinks those pictures will stop us, they are mistaken. It’s just a hiccup - we have the final say."</em></p><p>
  <em>"Yes, sir, agreed, sir."</em>
</p><p>
  <em>"Remember, these people don’t think. They’ll do what we say. And if not, we have our police and their guns. It’s that simple."</em>
</p><p><em>"And we all agree this fight is worth it?" </em> Patrick recognized his father’s voice.</p><p>
  <em>"Of course. The only reason there’s any protest at all right now is because we didn't get to them young enough to begin with. These people need to be controlled, period."</em>
</p><p> </p><p>And then the loop started again. Patrick removed his cap, dazed. It was one thing to learn about his government from others - another to hear them promote their intentions and disdain for the people so openly.</p><p>“As you can imagine,” Thompson said. “This is concerning. That was a member of Central Government leadership. The people are - <em> displeased </em> by his attitude. And to be honest, there are many of us who are equally displeased.”</p><p>“Go on,” David waved his hand impatiently.</p><p>Thompson looked at him, clearly startled by the disrespect. Patrick couldn’t help but smile. David didn’t always control his annoyance even with his closest loved ones, let alone government leaders. Patrick reached over to hold his hand.</p><p>“There’s a faction of us taking over. We’ve been talking about it for awhile - we think things would actually run more efficiently with less obsession over the restrictions. This was the right moment to seize control.”</p><p>The room was silent for a moment. Patrick looked around, still not quite processing the strange assortment of people that had somehow found themselves working toward a common goal.</p><p>Just then Mr. Rose spoke up. “So what do we get out of this?”</p><p>“I’m sorry?” Thompson looked at him.</p><p>“I think it’s pretty clear this power shift would not have been possible without us. What happens now, for my people?”</p><p>His tone was severe and assertive and unlike anything Patrick had heard from him before.</p><p>“Well, let’s negotiate. Obviously, we are not in the position to, or really inclined to make the changes you want to see. We’re not going back to the old days.”</p><p>“Of course not,” Mr. Rose replied bitterly.</p><p>“Will you rescind the order about the children?” Patrick asked, bringing attention back to the mission that started it all.</p><p>“It’s already been done,” Thompson replied. “Those are <em> our </em> people and many of us never agreed to that plan.”</p><p>Mr. Rose spoke again. “I want <em> my </em> kids to no longer have to hide. Let us live freely, the way we choose to.”</p><p>Thompson shifted nervously, looking at his fellow officials.</p><p>“If your leadership is so fragile that you can’t let us be, that you can’t protect us, then this is no change at all. This is what I want.” </p><p>Thompson and Mr. Rose locked eyes, neither wanting to back down. </p><p>“Fine,” Thompson replied. “You’re right. You got us here, we owe you. But there will be conditions. I don’t want you stirring up more trouble.”</p><p>“Don’t give us a reason to,” Stevie smirked.</p><p>Thompson pretended not to hear her. “We are redrafting several of the most restrictive laws anyway, including the liberal use of force that’s become the norm. We will bring some of your people in to work on how we can make this arrangement work.”</p><p>“And in the meantime?” Mr. Rose pressed.</p><p>Thompson sighed again. “I’ll make sure the police understand you’re not to be touched. Now, if you'll excuse us, we have a lot of work to do here, including travel back to the capitol.”</p><p>Patrick stood up. He felt like he was floating. He followed Mr. Rose out the door, weaving through the building until they paused again at the lobby doors, now shut. He opened one just a crack to peek outside; the crowds had somewhat dispersed, but people still milled around. Police were speaking with each other, encouraging the Citizens to go home.</p><p>Stevie, Alexis, Mr. Rose, David - they all hovered nervously nearby. </p><p>“Can we just - walk out?” David asked.</p><p>Patrick’s father smiled. “Let’s go.” He pushed open the doors, and guided them out into their new world.</p><p>***</p><p>
  <b>David</b>
</p><p>Their family had decided to meet at the old safe house in town to celebrate and navigate next steps. But David first needed some time.</p><p>Even when things were less restrictive, moving around required stealth and secrecy, moving fast, issuing bribes. </p><p>Before returning to the house, he needed to take advantage of the fact that he no longer had to rush to remain hidden. He wanted to take a slow, unhurried walk through town. So he called Patrick aside, pulled him close and whispered, “Let’s test these police orders.”</p><p>They walked through the square, out of town and down through the residential neighborhoods. They strolled together quietly, right down the middle of the street, swinging their clasped hands ever so slightly with each step. David felt overwhelmed by the space around him, both the physical space he could now move through, but also the possibilities he now had before him. </p><p>Up to this point, everything with Patrick had felt so hurried, so desperate. Time always seemed to be their worst enemy. Now - they could breathe.</p><p>After a few minutes of comfortable silence, Patrick spoke up. “So where did the password come from?”</p><p>David stepped back to look at Patrick, grey jacket unbuttoned hanging over his white t-shirt, curly hair sticking out from beneath his cap. His brain needed a minute to catch up. </p><p>“Canary? It’s been the same as long as I can remember.”</p><p>“Any reason why?”</p><p>David hummed. “Canaries are used to symbolize different things. Sometimes it’s freedom - sometimes it’s being trapped and caged.”</p><p>“Well which was it to you?” </p><p>“Me? I always used to associate it with the latter when I was stuck in that house.”</p><p>Patrick stepped forward, closing the space between them, pulling David in as he gently grabbed the sides of his sweater. “Used to?”</p><p>David thought of all the ways he had felt caged: the house, the government, the constant hiding, and the walls he had built within himself, the defenses to guard his own insecurities and fears.</p><p>He thought of Patrick’s first visit, knocking on the door; his weeklong stay, his cooking, sharing his bed; the warmth David felt with Patrick and his family together; Patrick’s encouragement and his pride in David; the walls coming down. He thought about Patrick’s return, the education policy, his determination to challenge it, and the messy string of events that had led them to here, now.</p><p>“Yeah,” he whispered, leaning closer still. “When you used it, it freed me.”</p><p>Patrick finally kissed him, and David returned it gratefully, wrapping his arms around Patrick beneath his open jacket. If the occasional police officer walked by on patrol, no one noticed. They stayed pressed together, focused only on each other; and they took their time, because they had it. </p><p> </p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0014"><h2>14. Epilogue</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <b>David</b>
</p><p>
  <span>David clutched the bag of groceries in his arms as he walked home through town. He had gotten used to the occasional unfriendly stare, but he wasn't sure he'd ever be at ease when he passed an officer on patrol. Still, he felt safe enough to leave the house alone these days.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He stepped up to the front door of the house. He ran a foot over the faded paint on the cement stairway, a stinging reminder of the occasional vandalism to their home. He sighed, but charged on and put his key in the door. Before things had changed, that door was always boarded up. Now, he no longer had to enter through the basement. Things weren’t perfect, but they were better.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Walking up the stairs he could hear the now-familiar sounds of guitar strings ringing out from his apartment. He stepped inside and set the groceries in the kitchen.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Patrick sat in the living room curled over his guitar. He glanced up at David briefly with a smile, then returned to his playing, eyebrows furrowed in concentration.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>David leaned against the counter, a small smile set at the corner of his mouth and arms crossed, watching Patrick’s fingers pick at the strings. It had only been a few months since David had tracked the guitar down and given it to him, but Patrick had taken to it instantly. He was getting pretty good.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When he stopped playing, David walked over to kiss him. “Who’s watching things downstairs?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Stevie,” Patrick replied, setting the guitar down and standing up. “I just came up to change and got distracted.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>David grabbed his shoulders in that familiar way, and returned to the kitchen. “Well, I think I got all of the ingredients you asked for. I am dying for your lasagna.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Good, I can start that up. Want to go help Stevie?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yep, but come down soon.” David kissed him again before heading down to the Safe.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The place was busy with people, some in grey suits and caps, others in dresses and jackets and sweaters, lounging on the couch and at the tables throughout the room. Stevie stood behind their old bar, sipping on a drink. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>In some ways the room looked the same as always; but David had added fresh coats of paint and art to the walls, replaced some furniture, and installed a makeshift sound system that played the records he had been collecting for Patrick.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Can I get a drink, barkeep?” David asked as he sidled up to the bar.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I think you can make it yourself, boss,” Stevie replied with her favorite sarcastic smile.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>David laughed and looked around the room.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Looks busy,” he observed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The night crowd. Quaint coffee shop by day, debacherous speakeasy by night.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That is most certainly not our brand, and I hope you aren’t using that with the customers.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m getting t-shirts made, actually.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>David glared.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Stevie stepped aside to go check on some of the tables, just as Alexis and Rachel glided through the door.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oohh, the </span>
  <em>
    <span>night</span>
  </em>
  <span> crowd!” Alexis chirped as she took a seat next to David.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What does that even mean?” David asked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Alexis absentmindedly started braiding Rachel’s hair, long since grown out and returned to its natural red.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t know, it’s the party crowd that comes for drinks.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We don’t have a party crowd, we’re classy.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fine David, can you get </span>
  <em>
    <span>us</span>
  </em>
  <span> some drinks though?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>David moved to the other side of the bar and poured some glasses of wine.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Rachel took a sip. “Thanks, David. How are sales on the new merchandise going?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>David glanced over at the newest addition to their little venture - two shelves against one of the walls of the Safe that displayed various local products. He’d gotten to know a lot of customers since opening, and everyone seemed to have a craft or recipe they wanted to share. So, he was experimenting.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s been good. I’m trying to figure out what fits in here and what doesn’t. We’ll see. How’s work for you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, you know. Still trying to reform things from the inside, but these are tough people to crack.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Rachel had returned to her job in the Department of Security. She had been a good influence as the new government worked to tone down the police presence and violence.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, I forgot to tell you!” Alexis squealed. “Mom and Dad are planning to visit next week.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Good, they can stay with you this time.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ew, why?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You have the extra bedroom!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ughh, David!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Rachel rubbed her back. “It’s fine, Alexis. It’s only for a week.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Alexis closed her eyes, her features calming. David couldn’t help but notice, for the hundredth time, how much Rachel’s effect on his sister reminded him of Patrick on himself.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Stevie returned and joined him behind the bar after seating a large group. He watched as a few of them shook off their caps and jackets, slinging them over the backs of their chairs. Two women pulled colorful, sparkly blazers from their bags and threw them on.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>David smiled. Since they opened, he had watched their clientele become increasingly more comfortable and safe here - it had organically grown into a place where people would release their inhibitions, let down their guards, try new things. Some spent hours drinking coffee and reading from their book selection. Others sipped wine late into the night, experimenting with makeup, outrageous clothes, jewelry - all still banned for most Citizens.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Their little business was not entirely legal; it was still password-only, since the alcohol and books and music were technically banned. Rachel helped with security and Patrick had a good sense of how to keep it looking legitimate on the outside. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It didn’t matter. It was working. Rachel and Alexis took Jason, Jen, and Angie’s place; they had reunited with their own families, but still kept in touch. David and Patrick shared their place with Stevie, just like before. Everyone helped out downstairs when they could. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Finally, Patrick joined them. He walked through the door, moving with confidence in a blue button-down and blazer. His hair was shorter now, but Rachel still gave him a hard time about it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He smiled brightly as he walked across the room, and David melted like he did every time.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Party crowd is here tonight,” he said as he took a glass of wine from Stevie. “I wonder how long we’ll be able to keep things going at this rate.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>David threw his head back. “Are you all conspiring to drive me insane?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We only do it because you get so worked up,” he reminded him. “Anyway, food should be ready in an hour, and my dad’s arriving around that time.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s been awhile since I’ve seen Clint! I can’t wait to catch up,” Rachel chimed in excitedly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Tell him I said hi,” Stevie offered, drying off some glasses behind the bar.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, no, no,” Alexis waved her hand at Stevie. “You can go up for dinner. Have some Clint time with everyone else. I’ll watch things down here.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>David looked at her skeptically as he tried to hide a smile. “Really?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes, David, it’s fine! Just make sure you bring him down for a drink after.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Patrick smiled but shook his head. “Alexis, you know he won’t drink.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Then bring him down for a glass of water, I don’t care! And save me some dinner.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>***</span>
</p><p>
  <b>Patrick</b>
</p><p>
  <span>The food was just out of the oven when Patrick’s father walked into the kitchen, quickly wrapped in hugs from Rachel, David, and even Stevie. He still wore his suit everywhere he went, but easily maneuvered between the two worlds, which were slowly blending together for all of them.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Patrick thought about how it used to be, when he first discovered his mother’s secrets, met David and the others. He had been terrified but so curious, part of him knowing that he somehow belonged with them; David gently guided him through so many revelations about himself and the world, reordering everything Patrick had thought he wanted in life. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It had seemed impossible then to live both of the lives he wanted to, to keep his family from his old life while another had claimed him for their own. To keep the things he loved about the world out there while embracing the love and truth and joy the underground offered him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But now he looked around his little kitchen table, watching it all come together, miraculously - the best of both worlds. David nearly spilling his wine as he talked with Rachel about their place downstairs, beaming with excitement and ambition. His father and Stevie chatting much more seriously and quietly about Clint’s continued work with the government. Patrick soaked it all in, still trained to revel in each moment in case time ran out again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A gunshot pierced through the conversation, bringing everything to a halt. Patrick hurried to the window to investigate - the violence had most certainly toned down, but not entirely.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s just a car backfiring,” he assured everyone, settling at the table again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Patrick hated that these moments were still interrupted like that. David took his hand, trying to pull him out of his head. Patrick inhaled sharply.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“When will this just be over?” He breathed, as he turned toward David.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>David leaned in close, whispering the echoes of words Patrick himself had used long before in a very different context.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It </span>
  <em>
    <span>is</span>
  </em>
  <span> over, because we say it is.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Patrick nodded and returned to his meal, his family, their daily acts of resistance.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Things weren’t perfect yet. Someday they would be.</span>
</p><p> </p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I hope this ending is happy enough; I resisted another cliffhanger, but I'd like to keep things open in case I want to return to this world someday.</p><p>This was the first fic I've ever written, and whatever ends up happening with it, I am really proud to have finished it. I was sometimes very discouraged, but the supportive comments readers left along the way, some from the very beginning, kept me going. So thank you for that.</p><p>Ultimately I had a lot of fun with it, I learned a lot, and have more ideas that I hope to write soon. </p><p>Thanks again for reading!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
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